Doubt 02

Your voice, familiar as my own breath, shaped words that hung in the air, fragile, uncertain, like glass caught in the flicker of light. I tried to hold them, to press their meaning into my hands, but they slipped, sharp edges gazing my skin. Did I hear what was meant, or what I feared? Each syllable, a shadow, stretching long in the quiet. I want to trust, to rest in the shelter of your truth, but the spaces between your words whisper louder than you do. Love and doubt, twined like roots beneath the surface, pulling at my heart, soft and unrelenting.