The Distance Between Heartbeats: When Silence Finds Its Voice

 

The Distance Between the Heartbeats

Two shores, one heart. 🏮 On the left, the tarmac of a city that never sleeps; on the right, the quiet tide of a desk where the soul’s work is done. He carries the luggage of his dreams through the Hollywood glow, while I stay anchored in the ink and the 'Unspoken Bloom.' The miles might stretch, but the rhythm remains the same. 🧳✍🏾⚓️

While some of us look for home in the shadows of the city, others find it in the words whispered across the miles. This is the space between the tarmac and the tide.

He was a quiet building when he stood beside me, All stone and steady breath, Choosing silence over the surge of words While we shared the same St. Lucian air. I didn't need the declaration then— I had the warmth of his shadow And the rhythm of his "here."

But now the map has stretched, And the miles have unlocked the door. From a distance, the whispers turn to anchors, And the "not saying much" Has become a harvest of "I admire you."

Perhaps the space was the soil The "Unspoken Bloom" needed to grow. For though he is far from my touch, His words are finally reaching my shore— Reminding me that some foundations are built in silence, But they are celebrated in the light of the missing.

Read the companion piece on the persistent strength of the city here: The Tarmac and the Tide