The Girl Who Borrowed Midnight

The Girl Who Borrowed Midnight

Midnight came early to town,

It slipped in before the clocks allowed,

People blamed the cliffs and sea,

Yet I knew it came for her.

Lena lived at the end of the street,

Her windows never fully closed,

The night breathed through her rooms,

As if it belonged to her alone.

No one knew her story,

No one knew her age,

Some said she stayed sixteen forever,

Some said she was older than the tides.

Each night at 11.47,

The sky above her house sank low,

Darkness gathered quicker for her,

Thicker than any other night.

People whispered about her,

People watched from afar,

Fear kept them at a distance,

Curiosity pushed me forward.

One night I followed that pull,

I walked to her quiet door,

My hand trembled when I knocked,

The moon rested in her hair.

You are early she said,

So are you I replied,

A soft smile lit her face,

She stepped aside in silence.

Candles burned in bowls of salt,

Feathers drifted overhead,

Jars held strange shadows,

Moving like hesitant breath.

A slow clock waited in the corner,

Dragging time behind each tick,

Its tired rhythm filled the room,

As if time resisted her call.

Why does midnight come here first,

I asked her without fear,

She touched the glass gently,

And answered with quiet truth.

I borrow midnight she said,

A little each passing night,

I look for things that are lost,

Things the world forgets.

Lost moments linger with her,

Lost names rise like smoke,

Even lost people return,

Waiting for her gentle search.

What does it cost you I asked,

Her eyes lowered with calm,

A memory leaves me each night,

Piece by piece I fade.

Someone must remember she said,

Someone must carry what falls,

Her voice was soft and tired,

Yet strong in its purpose.

Stay with me she whispered,

Tonight I hope to forget nothing,

Her words settled on my chest,

So I stayed beside her.

Midnight reached through her windows,

Dark and heavy with meaning,

Shadows stirred inside the jars,

The room held its breath.

Something unseen touched her,

Something old and searching,

I placed my hand on hers,

Without thinking of the cost.

A spark rose gently between us,

Candles lifted into brighter flame,

The shadows retreated quietly,

The clock began to steady.

You gave me something she said,

Her voice carried deep surprise,

A memory from you entered me,

A small piece of your life.

I felt an emptiness soft as mist,

Not pain and not fear,

Just something drifting outward,

A moment I could not name.

I did not want to take from you she said,

Her eyes heavy with regret,

You did not take anything I whispered,

I gave what was needed.

Midnight loosened and faded away,

She closed her windows gently,

Her hand lingered over mine,

As silence filled the room.

Now each evening when light falls,

A faint memory leaves me,

Nothing sharp and nothing sad,

Simply something drifting free.

And when the sky darkens too soon,

I feel the pull of her search,

I know she walks with midnight again,

She is no longer searching alone.

Now I watch her from the edge of night,

Where silence holds the world still,

She carries what I cannot remember,

And I follow the path her midnight leaves.