Between silence and hope
Love feels different now quieter…
like rain falling deep inside a forest,
where no one comes to watch.
I walk through my days,
carrying conversations we never finished,
hearing your laughter,
in places that no longer belong to us.
This is another Friday without you,
and time behaves strangely,
too slow when I miss you,
too fast when I remember,
how easily we once forgot the world.
Do you remember
how nights dissolved around us?
How silence never felt empty
when your hand found mine?
I miss that silence most.
The one that asked for nothing.
The one where loving you
felt as natural as breathing.
Now everything feels careful.
Like two people standing in the rain
unsure whether to step closer
or wait for the storm to pass.
Still…
when I think of home,
my heart walks toward you.
Not the perfect us,
not the unbroken us,
but the real one,
the one learning how to stay,
even after the hurt.
Maybe love is not the absence of scars.
Maybe it is choosing
to hold the same hand again
while knowing exactly
how fragile it is.
Some nights I imagine us as trees growing apart in the same forest,
roots still touching underground,
even when branches cannot.
And if life is patient with us,
if healing finds its way back slowly,
I hope we meet again
in those small moments, lost conversations, soft laughter,
forehead kisses that say
more than words ever could.
Because broken or whole,
near or far,
you are still the place
my heart recognizes first.
And somewhere between silence and hope, between yesterday and whatever comes next.
Copyright © Sasha Bertha Ngulube | Year Posted 2026
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