The Spirit of the Stairway

She lingers

where the world unravels,

a loose thread of time -

each step, a gamble in fate’s dark mouth.

Heads, you rise.

Tails, you’re swallowed.

-

She watches.

-

Veil of ink, hands of ghostlight.

A whisper caught in a closing door,

the hush of air before it locks.

You think you’re still—

but she knows better.

-

The present is just

the moment you surrender.

-

Go on then,

take the step, breach the frame.

Slip sideways—

into the crack between seconds.

The air hums—static, salt, something electric.

A breath, not your own, lingers in your throat.

-

She won’t stop you.

-

She never does.

-

But if you look back

(when you look back)

will she still be there—

or will you?

-

Or—

-

did you ever step at all?

.