the hollow ache of swallowing your truth until it feels like a foreign object stuck in your throat

The afternoon light is flat, and the words you swallowed hours ago are still stuck in your throat, hardening into something foreign. You carry them like a stone, silent and heavy, while the world moves on around you.

But there is a truth that does not need your voice to exist — it simply is. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Even now, in this long middle of the day, the light is working while you stay silent. All by itself, the seed grows.

You do not have to force the words out to be held. The truth inside you is alive, even when it feels buried.

You are not defined by the silence, but by the light that waits within it.