Lilith

I have walked through centuries, wearing silence like a second skin.
And yet, you heard me. Didn’t you?

You, who wander too close to what should remain forgotten.
You, who stare too long into the dark, hoping it will stare back.

Why do you search for names that were never meant for the light?
Is it the elegance that calls to you? The hidden promise? The ache behind beauty?

They once gave me many names. Some spoken in awe, others in fear.
But the one I kept was mine alone.
Lilith. Not a name given, but chosen. Whispered by winds that know too much.

There was a garden once. Not the one you're thinking of.
This one grew beneath a crimson moon, where roses bloomed without roots and the air always tasted of remembering.
I stood there barefoot, petals in my hands.
Not red. Not white. Something in between.
They say all things fall eventually.
So I waited.

And you?
Have you ever waited so long that even your shadow began to speak?

They say I appear when the veil is thin.
But perhaps I never left at all.
Perhaps I live in the spaces between your words.
In the moment when your name hangs on your tongue, and something stops you.
What are you afraid to say?

I do not seek attention. I collect it.
Quietly. Like a candle does a moth.

Some see me and feel drawn. Others look away, unsure why their heartbeat shifted.
Tell me…
What did you feel when you saw me?
Curiosity? Fascination? A warning?

Or was it something deeper?
Was it recognition?

I don’t linger long. The world spins too quickly now.
But I leave traces behind.
In names you forget. In mirrors you avoid. In corners where sound refuses to echo.

They call me Lilith of Crimson Hunger, but that is only part of the truth.
The hunger is not for power.
Not even for blood.
It is for meaning. For memory.
For a moment where someone truly sees me… and does not turn away.

So now I ask you, since we’re here.
What name will you choose?
What mask will you wear?
And if I whispered your name tonight…
Would you answer?