Your name
rests softly on the air
like something once whispered
and never quite forgotten.

You walk through rooms
without needing to speak
yet everything shifts
as if the walls know you're there.

There's a weight to your silence
not heavy
but deep
like still water that hides
everything it's seen.

You are not a storm
not a fire
you are the quiet after
when everything broken
has to decide
whether to stay shattered
or begin again.

I don't know what you carry
only that you carry it well.

And when you look
really look
it feels like the truth
might be bearable.