The silence between heartbeats

There is a hush the body keeps- not the thud, but what comes after, a pause so small it barely breathes, a moment stretched like fragile glass between the now and what comes next Its in that quiet where the truths often live: the almost-said, the almost-left, the ache before the break, the stillness before the scream. The silence between heartbeats is not empty- its where memory folds itself like paper cranes in the ribs, where love once whispered and grief strill listens. You don't notice it, not at first- but in the waiting room, in the last note of your favorite song, in a strangers eyes that reminds you of someone you lost- its there. it is the breath you hold when the phone rings too late, the space between "I'm fine" and "I'm falling," the sound your soul makes when its deciding weather to stay. And yet, you survived it- heartbeat by heartbeat, pause by pause- carrying the quiet like a sacred thing.