There is a thing she keeps
folded small enough
to fit beneath her tongue.

Not a secret exactly.
Secrets usually want out.
This one learned how to survive
by staying quiet.

She realized it one ordinary day.
No thunder.
No tragedy.
Just the slow unbearable understanding
that somewhere along the way
her heart had crossed a line
her mind never intended to follow.

And because she is not foolish,
she buried it.

Not out of shame.
Not even out of fear.
Some things are simply too fragile
to survive being spoken aloud.

What would come of it anyway?

A softer ruin.
A heavier silence.
The kind of distance that grows
the moment someone realizes
they are carrying more of the feeling
than the other person ever could.

So she says nothing.

Lets the conversations stay ordinary.
Lets the laughter pass through untouched.
Pretends her pulse is not a living thing
every time his name appears
unexpectedly across a screen.

And somewhere deep down
she already understands
this is temporary.

One day the ache will loosen.
One day his voice will stop living
inside the architecture of her thoughts.
One day she will wake up
and discover the tide finally pulled back
without asking permission first.

But today is not that day.

Today she carries it carefully.
Like a candle hidden inside both hands.
Small enough not to burn the world down.
Bright enough to keep her warm
all the same.

© 2026 Wynter Rayne. All rights reserved.