Stillness Wears Her Name

She reached for warmth in brittle air, 

A touch, a breath, no solace there, 

Just echoes threading through her spine, 

The frost of silence misaligned.

Her nerves, those weary phantom strings, 

Forgotten songs the cold still sings. 

She clung to light that wouldn’t stay, 

A ghost of dawn, a night’s decay.

I see her pain in shadows cast, 

A love too slow, a wound too fast. 

Yet through the numb, I feel her fight, 

A soul still trembling toward the light.

For every tear that fell unseen, 

A ribbon tied to might-have-been. 

And though the thaw may take its time, 

Her name will pulse in every rhyme