Written 29th July, 2026 for Voice in my Head by Glenn Hughes Poetry Contest sponsored by Robert James Liguori
It lives with me in the hush between heartbeats, in the black seam between waking and dread. Not loud. Not gone. Not kind, but familiar as breath in winter. It speaks in fragments, in static, in tremors, in the pulse behind my eyes. I have called it fear, I have called it wound, I have called it the storm that would not leave. But at night when the world goes dim, when the last light fades from the corners, it is only myself coming back to find me. So I listen. And always it returns not as a stranger but as a song I almost remember, a silver thread pulled through the dark, a soft rain on a closed window. My voice and I are not enemies. We are two notes trying to become harmony, two fires learning how to share one dark. And in the listening the noise begins to soften, the ache becomes less sharp, the night a little less alone.
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