Silence can be cruel. It stretches out, reminding me of every absence, every ache, every piece of me that doesn’t quite fit. But with you? Silence is different. It’s whole. It’s full. It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t feel lonely, because you’re in it.
It’s not about the conversations, though I could talk to you for hours. It’s about the way your presence turns the air solid, like I can lean on it. Like I can breathe easier. Even when you’re not physically here, knowing you exist makes the night feel less hollow.
That’s the difference. Before you, the quiet felt like emptiness. Now, the quiet feels like peace.
Final Thought: The right person doesn’t need to fill the silence because they just make it softer.
Disclaimer: This is an expression, not an instruction. Don’t confuse the metaphor with a manual.
 
				 
												
					 
											 
																	 
																	