Between the Held Breath

There is a kingdom in the pause, where words dissolve before they touch the air, where two people sit in the grammar of stillness.

The space between us hums— not with sound, but with all the things we chose not to say, accumulated like dust on a window.

Light bends through silence differently, slower, more deliberate, touching the small hairs on your neck before it reaches your eyes.

In this moment we are fluent in absence, our hearts keeping time to each other's breathing in, breathing out, the oldest conversation.

I learn your quietness like a language where every breath is a word, where staying means something more than words ever could.