The Spaces Between

The pause before a word arrives— there, where meaning gathers like mist above still water, the world holds its breath.

I've learned to live in these gaps, the white noise of becoming, where what I was dissolves into what I might be.

A door closes. Dust settles. In that golden slant of light, everything I couldn't say takes its shape and leaves.

There is a kind of grace in the spaces between heartbeats, in the silence that doesn't echo, in what stays unspoken.