Rhyme and blue

Some stories don't begin with fireworks.
They begin with silence. With a song hummed in the dark. With words scribbled on a crumpled page that no one was meant to read.

That's how hers began-between rhyme and blue.
Rhyme, because she could only speak in poetry when her heart was breaking. Blue, because that was the color of her nights-the shade of her sadness, the echo of her love lost too soon.

But she never expected that a stranger would hear her words. That her poems, meant for no one, would become the bridge between two hearts. And that in the quiet spaces between rhyme and blue, love would find its way back... in a voice she thought she had forgotten.