Between the moment breath began
and silence learned your name,
there rests a single, slender line,
so small, it looks the same.

Yet in that quiet stroke of ink
lived every step you tried,
the days you stood in borrowed light,
the nights you broke or cried.

It holds the hands you dared to take,
the hearts you learned to mend,
the courage found in starting again
when something had to end.

It carries laughter left midair,
regrets you’d still outgrow,
the weight of words you didn’t say
and love you chose to show.

Inside the dash are ordinary days
that never made the news,
where showing up and staying kind
were radical to choose.

No measure marks how long it stretched,
or what it cost in pain,
only how deeply you were here
while time still spoke your name.

So when they read the dates aloud
and pause between the breath,
remember this: your life was lived
inside that dash,
where meaning breathes.

🦋🦋🦋

©️Lainey - Intwined.blog