Nightmare Bloom

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A hush descends, the air grows still,
A creeping dread begins to fill
Each empty space, each shadowed nook,
A silent promise in its look.
No footstep falls, no curtain sways,
Yet something watches through the haze,
A sense of presence, cold and deep,
While weary senses start to sleep.

A pressure mounts upon my chest,
A silent bloom of dark unrest.
It coils and tightens, slow and sure,
A phantom weight I must endure.
No words are spoken, yet I hear
A chilling whisper drawing near,
Not with the ears, but in the bone,
A seed of terror subtly sown.

It came at night without a sound,
A shadow crawling over the ground,
Unfurling tendrils, black and vast,
A silent claim that's meant to last.
No face to see, no form to fight,
Just arms that reached and stole the light,
Enveloping in a cold embrace,
Leaving no solace, time, or space.

The walls themselves begin to lean,
As unseen shadows intervene,
Distorting shapes, familiar things,
On silent, suffocating wings.
It smiled where no face belonged—
A hunger ancient, fierce, and strong,
A hug that held me far too long,
Where breath grew shallow, hope felt wrong.

So when the quiet starts to bite,
And silence thickens into fright,
When shadows dance without a flame,
And whispers call your very name,
Don’t seek the source or light a room—
Beware the hug, the nightmare bloom.
Its petals spread in waking hours,
A lingering chill, a fading power,
Yet in the stillness, you might find
The echo of its grip behind.

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