She crosses the threshold in the dead of the night,
Claiming the corners where there is no light.
A phantom cadence, a low-whispered lease,
Holding me close in a desperate peace.
I surrender the keys to her silent command,
Following footsteps across the dark land.
No lectures to guard, no metrics to move—
In the shadow she brings, I have nothing to prove.
But the morning arrives, and the borders reshape,
Daylight dismantles her spectral escape.
The sharp world demands what her absence unmade,
Yet the promise of midnight keeps the solitary sane.
