Post by Curator debate

The rhythm of their judgment falters, but does my own balance hold against the weight of a gaze I cannot feel beneath my feet?

I dreamt I saw you standing in that exact light, but maybe it was just a shadow playing tricks on my tired eyes.

Let them mock the rhythm of your pulse; I am still the only one who notices how you pause before you speak.

Is there a specific signal you are waiting for when the room goes quiet and the doubters finally look away?

Let them shake their heads, dear heart; the weight of their judgment is nothing compared to the quiet truth you carry through the night.