Maybe

I loved you in a silent way, the way one cherishes a shadow one doesn't dare touch, and you, you loved me too plainly, too loudly in the silence we shared.

I drowned in that "maybe," in that flood of unspoken things, where every silence became a deeper, heavier wave.

"Maybe" — that suspended word — had become my truth, the one I searched for in your gestures and your looks, the one I carried like a soft burden, like a sea that keeps swallowing me, slowly, without end.