Weight of Quiet

She folds into me, small and heavy,

breath shallow, pulse steady.

The room softens around our shape,

a quiet held in the curve of her back.

Her weight steals my breath,

a gentle anchor dragging me deep

into stillness where time cracks

like the walls holding the dark.

I don’t move.

Not yet.

She sleeps in the heavy silence,

and I carry her weight like a secret

too big for words.