Between the Lines
these lines are out of order.
Even the best questions sit a while.
Some things only land when you stop throwing them.
Refusing to name what doesn't need a name.
Or maybe not. Maybe that's the point.
A familiar weight we carry without asking—
Not everything requires an answer, after all.
Conversations placed like stones across a stream,
Resting in the adjacent chair, you'd understand.
you're not done yet.