If it will, then let it be—
let it bloom where the quiet hums,
where time softens its edges,
where hands find hands
without needing to ask.
Let it be the sweetest thing,
like rain caught between lips,
like a sigh resting on skin,
like the hush before a kiss
that never needed words.
But if left unspoken,
then let it linger—
a bittersweet ache folded into dusk,
a love that lived in the spaces between,
a memory that almost became,
but never was.
