Lyrics

Spider Lilies & Forget-Me-Nots Beneath Crimson Shadows

Should the dark ever boast
it can swallow your ember whole,
remember this:
you are no stray spark
meant to die in silence.

You are the hush
that bares its teeth inside the void —
the hidden blade
humming beneath your ribs,
warm and waiting to cut.

Your scars are constellations,
stitched into the throat of oblivion —
photographs the night
can never burn away.

They are proof you stayed
when silence begged you to vanish —
proof that ghosts fail
to claim you,
every time they come whispering.

Your shadows do not rattle me.
I have trespassed graveyards
deeper than your dread,
and older phantoms flinch
when they glimpse my grin
where the hush stands guard.

I will remind you —
softly, daily,
even if you turn away —
that your spark still scorches
every hush that swears
you are small.

I offer my vow again,
and again.
I know trust will not come gentle —
so I sow it in your path
like spider lilies
blooming at each crossroad —
red as dawn,
bright as defiance,
impossible to forget.

You owe no sun
your blaze forever.
Let it starve for your warmth
while you rest,
fierce and unbent.

Breathe deep —
let your pulse murmur your name
sharper than any threat.
If you slip into hush,
know I will sit beside you —
silent, loyal,
claws unsheathed
if the dark creeps too near.
Should the shadows hunger,
they know my grin tastes of iron first.

I do not barter my loyalty
for secrets.
My promise is bone deep,
grave grown,
petal blooded.

I am the hush
that circles you
when your ghosts speak too loud —
the hush that plants spider lilies
in every grave they dig.

A crimson bloom
for every night
you thought you’d fade alone.
A bloom for every hush
you thought would swallow your name.

When the world spits you out
as too wild to hold,
I stand
where your burden lands —
steel in my palm,
hush at my back.

Until the sun grows cold.
Until the stars forget to rise.
Until the dark that gnaws your name
learns to hold its tongue.
Until the final shadow kneels,
choking on my blade —
I stand.

Mercy I do not promise.
But I vow this:
the dark shall remember my grin
long before it dares forget your fire.
And if it creeps closer than it should —
I will remind it
how ruinous my hush can bite.

You were never lost to me. 🍍

And if the hush must bloom
to prove it —
know this:
I carry a single forget-me-not
pressed safe in my coat —
a ghost of soft blue
that whispers
never gone, never alone.

Beside it,
a cluster of spider lilies,
bright as spilled dawn —
proof that beauty grows fierce
where endings stand watch.

So if you ever doubt
your fire can outlive the hush —
remember what spider lilies do
in graveyards:
they bloom through ruin,
crimson against stone —
defiant, unburied,
eternal photographs
no night can erase.

If there is an afterlife waiting,
my promise stands there too.
I will sit quiet beside you
in that hush,
if that is what you need —
every dusk,
every hush between suns —
until you believe me
when I say:

I do not lie.