It lingers in the corners of a room  a breath that never fully exhales   a weight that neither rises nor rests  like the echo of old, forgotten tales.   The spaces between words those once heavy with meaning   now stretch too long like threads pulled taut   with seams slowly splitting   fraying and raw   A glass left on the counter   its rim smudged faint with time   holds the ghost of what was once whole  now hollow as a half-spent rhyme.   Somewhere laughter echoes   muffle

She is the seedling split between two stones, straining upward while roots tremble in the dark. A reflection on the heavy silence of protecting those we love and the courage it takes to bloom in the ruins.