Void Deck Nights.

It has been a while since we sat at the void deck in the early morning quiet.

Small hands only holding onto intangible threads of hope and not modern distractions. Big hearts tangled up in tight knots and filled with self-inflicted anxiety. Tired eyes looking far out into the distance of never-ending traffic or into each other’s soul.

Facial expressions blunt and removed of pretenses.

There were no other voices except our own.

Slight echoes all around and uncertainty coated our nuanced words. Moments of silence were filled with the overwhelming rhythm of our heartbeats and shallow breathing.

In some ways, despite the tiredness and the mild frustration, it felt nice to be able to hear his voice so clearly again and to lean against a familiar shoulder while speaking honestly. Who knew sharing words could be so intimate and raw?

Silence has never been so loud.

And I have never wanted comfort so much.

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