parenthesis

histories aren't made

in years

in months

in days

in minutes

histories aren't even made in moments.

they're made here

in between the moments

in words. unsaid but felt.

in smiles. subtle but understood.

in dreams. unexplained but always shared.

that's where the histories of us were made

and that's where, engraved in time, you must know they will stay

but that was just a dream

and we didn't say a word

and we didn't do a thing

and the world just swarmed around us

becoming a distant, hazy blur

and your thoughts echoed in my ears

and your fingers traced along my skin

and your arms were there to steady me

even before i knew i would fall

the insignificance

"But I'm afraid," she whispered.

"They did not care when I was here; they will not notice when I'm gone."

So you stayed a while, and fought the Loneliness.

And when you left, she was no bigger than before. But the shadows she stepped out of had diminished.

moving forward is the only way back

it's not how you come back from this that counts.

it's how you leave.

what you choose to carry with you

it's who you are

who you'll always be

in this moment

that will make every other moment still to come.