The Dark Realm
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A nameless spirit survives as a cold draft beneath old floorboards, haunting the house with the memory of a human name it forgot.
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Forests understand what people forget: broken branches, fallen trees, and decay can still become shelter, soil, and beginning.
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An abandoned church keeps preaching through crows, wind, and old timber long after the congregation is gone.
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In a ruined chapel of ravens and ivy, one candle burns for the women history called wicked because they refused to disappear quietly.
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A jar left beneath the full moon looks unchanged by morning, yet somehow carries enough light to make transformation feel possible.
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Where ivy swallows walls and darkness respects one small flame, the forest seems to keep a chapel of its own.
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An abandoned house and candlelight offer a resting place to a woman who has survived enough ghosts of her own.
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An abandoned house may choose one soul to remember it, and tonight a candle bends toward the answer hiding upstairs.
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She went looking for somewhere to put her grief and found the moon, the forest, an abandoned house, and eventually herself.
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At three in the morning, every poem becomes another lantern on the long road back to herself.
Between Bruises & Blooms 