Shhh....

He told me I was beautiful, as though this was all I needed. Never once, did he concern himself with wondering what my definition of "beautiful" was.

In conversation, he would speak to me of hardship, of overcoming. He would speak of his pain, his poetry, his will to live. How beauty could reduce him to tears, never noticing, I was already crying.

I stayed "beautiful" in my silence. My unwillingness to speak an effort to overcome a lack of space in a one-sided conversation.

I wonder often, of second chances and promises unkept, understanding now, it is my appreciation of silence...those still, stolen moments, that saved me.

Natasha Head