Hang

To hang is to linger

between where you were

and where you wanna be.

Clothes hang on a line,

dripping the last heaviness of rain,

learning to dry in their own time.

Pictures hang on walls,

holding memories in still frames,

quietly watching us change.

Sometimes, we also hang

on decisions we haven’t made,

words we should have said,

feelings we don’t know how to name.

There's tension in the middle,

a softness too,

a chance to breathe

before the fall or the climb.

Not everything that hangs

is lost.

Some things only pause,

waiting for the right moment

to move again.