The Weight of Wanting: Lost in Between
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- Parts 109
For a hundred nights, they built a world in whispered words, two souls out of sync, like migratory birds that missed their season. Their conversations were a quiet sea where secrets surfaced and they learned to be more than the lives they lived.
One soul was the softest ground for the other's fears, the most beautiful sound that answered theirs, their laughter a sudden light against the darkness of the late-hour night. They wrote their story not in prose but in verse, each poem a day to cradle or to curse. A line for joy, a stanza for the ache, a little piece of them for goodness' sake. They knew the pages had a near ending, but still, they turned them, living out the fear that every shared thought and held-back sigh would turn to memory beneath a different sky.
Now the book is closed, the final word unsaid, and the journey's end is left inside the reader's head. The world believes they walk alone, but they still carry what their story weaves, as a hundred poems linger in the air-a silent testament that they were there.
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poetry
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