A Tender Kind of Friction
There are evenings when tenderness catches on the sharp edges of our words. The air grows heavy with everything we meant to say differently. We sit close enough for our knees to touch, carrying the quiet ache of misunderstanding, yet never questioning the love that remains between us.
we clash
then soften
like rain against glass
two hearts learning where to be soft
some words still ache long after they are spoken
yet we never mistake the hurt for goodbye
your hand stays
beside mine
when both our voices shake
we never left the love we struggled within
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