your ink finds me in the quiet hour
a midnight tide beneath my skin
it gathers in the well of my pen
like breath returning

I lower nib to page
you are the steady current
where I am empty you arrive
fill the hollow without a sound
spilling dark into every waiting vein

what I thought was absence
opens like a door
the page drinks
the silence answers
and somewhere between
your tide and my heartbeat
something unnamed 
learns to live in ink