Sanctuary of Stillness

My room, a cradle built of quiet air, Where shadows fold like quilts upon the floor. Each hum of light consoles me unaware, A tender cage that guards my inner war. The walls are kind — they never ask of me, No trembling words, no masks I must uphold. Yet time drips slow, like wax from memory, And turns my heart to marble, pale and cold. Beyond these blinds, the day blooms wide and sweet, With voices threading laughter through the breeze. But when I think to rise, I hear retreat — My comfort coils around me by degrees. So here I stay, half-living, half at peace, A ghost of warmth the world forgot to release.