03.05.2026

The night begins with a whisper,
soft as dust settling on old dreams.

Something inside starts to shimmer,
a slow unfolding—
dim, 
but alive.

I crush the silence between my fingers,
feel the crisp edge of memory,
taste something almost creamy, 
almost sweet—
a feeling I can’t quite name.

A hidden script writes itself in the dark,
each breath turning more brisk, 
more certain.

And in the quiet,
small seeds stir—
waiting,
for light to 
remember them.

© Maggie – The Afterlove Voice ⚖️♾️🦉

If you want a cheap reading, send me an email: Afterlove-Voice@hotmail.com