If all I could have is this, I’d take them in silence and call them everything.
If your words can’t reach me, then let the stars carry your weight. Scatter them across the night as questions I’ll never tire of answering. I’ll connect each dot, trace every faint line, and let the constellations shape something only we could understand.
If this is a puzzle too fractured to complete, I’ll sit with the pieces anyway. Let them rest where they fall, and when you’re ready, we’ll build it again — no rush, no edges forced to fit. I’ll hold the silence, read the meaning into every pauses, and take each small step as proof that you’re still here.
Because as absurd as it might be, I’d rather stand in the limbo of your maybes than walk away from your might-be’s. I’ll gladly carry every pauses, every hesitations, and every silences because even those are pieces of you I don’t ever want to lose.
Even if your voice never reaches me, let that too be enough. I’ll wait, not in longing, but in acceptance, where words aren’t necessary and the unspoken still carries meaning. Some things aren’t meant to be said to be understood, and some things don’t need to be seen to be felt.
And in the spaces between us, something lingers — undone, perhaps, but present, still. And maybe, just maybe, that’s all we need.
Because some things aren’t meant to be defined to exist — they simply are waiting in their own time to be found.
| 安迪.
