The Interval

You hold your breath at the edge of silence, waiting for the word that hasn't arrived, listening so intently the air crystallizes.

There are oceans in the space between heartbeats, whole architectures built in the pause before your mouth forms the name you've forgotten.

Sound arrives not as a messenger but as an echo of something already known, and in that recognition, you realize the voice was always yours.

The silence doesn't break; it sighs, finally understood.