The Light That Cannot Pack A Bag

The silence in the room feels heavy enough to crush you. It is not the quiet of peace, but the quiet of someone slowly closing a door you didn't know was opening.

You lie there in the dark, listening to the sound of a heart packing its bags, and the panic rises like a tide. But in this deepest hour, when the night feels longest and the end feels certain, the light does not flee.

It stays. It sits on the edge of the bed with you.

It does not force the other person to stay. It does not demand a conversation that isn't ready to happen.

It simply refuses to leave you alone in the fear. The silence is terrifying.

But you are not abandoned in it. The light is the one thing that cannot pack a bag and walk away.