Some things are too whole
to be spoken.
A look.
A breath that almost turned into speech.
The way your shoulder moved
before the apology
that never arrived.
We speak so much
just to hide
what we actually feel.
But the unsaid -
it sits quietly
in the space behind your teeth,
in the silence between names.
It doesn’t fade.
It settles.
I remember the pause
more than the sentence.
The moment before
you almost said
“don’t go.”
But didn’t.
And that
has echoed longer
than any goodbye.
What we don’t say
doesn’t disappear.
It becomes
the resonance
beneath everything we do.