The gap between two words,
the seconds between two breaths,
the silence after a conversation,
the little darkness the eyes keep to themselves.
The time between two heartbeats,
the distance between day and night,
the silence beneath the honking of vehicles,
the hush of a flower falling.
And then there are long words,
long breaths carrying the weight,
conversations that make
midnight forget its name.
There are eyes that stare without blinking,
hearts beating as though afraid of stillness,
places where the days stretch endlessly,
and no vehicles honk and flowers refuse to fall.
But somewhere between all these things,
between the leaving and the staying,
between noise and silence,
there is you and there is me.
Two unfinished sentences
resting inside the same silence,
there is the pause,
a quiet, peaceful space.
And if you ever ask me
what you are to me,
I would not call you a beginning,
nor an ending, nor even a destination.
You are the pause
between everything I have survived
and everything I am still becoming,
the quiet I keep searching for after a lifetime of noise.
You are the breath I do not have to hold,
the silence that does not frighten me,
the stillness in which my heart
finally stops running from itself.
If life is a sentence
I have spent years trying to finish,
you are the space between its words,
the little white place where I can remain.
And perhaps that is why
I yearn for you without knowing how to say it.
Not because I want you to fill the emptiness in me,
but because beside you, the emptiness becomes a kind of peace.
You are not just the silence
that makes me forget my loneliness.
You are the pause
in which I finally hear myself.
And if I must call that love,
then let it be this:
two hearts sitting quietly
where the world has finally stopped speaking.
With love.
//Janu.
the seconds between two breaths,
the silence after a conversation,
the little darkness the eyes keep to themselves.
The time between two heartbeats,
the distance between day and night,
the silence beneath the honking of vehicles,
the hush of a flower falling.
And then there are long words,
long breaths carrying the weight,
conversations that make
midnight forget its name.
There are eyes that stare without blinking,
hearts beating as though afraid of stillness,
places where the days stretch endlessly,
and no vehicles honk and flowers refuse to fall.
But somewhere between all these things,
between the leaving and the staying,
between noise and silence,
there is you and there is me.
Two unfinished sentences
resting inside the same silence,
there is the pause,
a quiet, peaceful space.
And if you ever ask me
what you are to me,
I would not call you a beginning,
nor an ending, nor even a destination.
You are the pause
between everything I have survived
and everything I am still becoming,
the quiet I keep searching for after a lifetime of noise.
You are the breath I do not have to hold,
the silence that does not frighten me,
the stillness in which my heart
finally stops running from itself.
If life is a sentence
I have spent years trying to finish,
you are the space between its words,
the little white place where I can remain.
And perhaps that is why
I yearn for you without knowing how to say it.
Not because I want you to fill the emptiness in me,
but because beside you, the emptiness becomes a kind of peace.
You are not just the silence
that makes me forget my loneliness.
You are the pause
in which I finally hear myself.
And if I must call that love,
then let it be this:
two hearts sitting quietly
where the world has finally stopped speaking.
With love.
//Janu.