the silence before, it isn't empty, it's pregnant, full of all the things you haven't said, the things you can't say, the things that would shatter everything if they were spoken aloud and the jaw clenches harder, even sleeping, like holding those words hostage, like a fist around your own damn throat, and then thirty seconds, thirty seconds is a lifetime, a gasp of air, a goddamn miracle, and the silence after, the silence after is…different, heavier maybe, but with a shimmer to it, like heat rising off asphalt, or maybe it's just the blur in my vision, the one that's there even when i close my eyes, she knew me, for thirty seconds she knew me, and now the silence isn't empty, it's…waiting, i guess, waiting for the next time, waiting for the fog to clear, waiting for her to find her way back, even if it's just for thirty seconds, god, even if it's just for one more second, the weeds are growing, i know they are, but for now, just for right now, the silence is… hopeful, maybe?