Sunshine's Blog
Where Would We Live?
— for the bird, for the fish, and the space between
A bird fell in love with a fish,
on a morning threaded with mist —
the sky still forgetting it wasn’t the sea.
They saw each other through silence,
through shimmer,
through the pull of what shouldn’t be
but somehow already was.
She sang from the wind,
with feathers full of elsewhere.
He danced in the currents,
a body made of memory and hush.
Their languages did not match,
yet they understood —
not in words, but in ache.
“Where would we live?”
one whispered into the dream.
Not as a question,
but as a wound.
Could she drown without breaking?
Could he breathe without loss?
To meet, one must leave.
To love, one must choose.
But the choosing was never clear.
So they met in the in-between:
at the surface,
where light trembles and doesn’t decide.
Not quite sky, not quite sea —
just enough to feel
but not enough to stay.
And maybe that’s the kind of love
that doesn’t anchor,
but awakens —
a love that doesn’t live
in one world or the other,
but in the echo they left behind
when they touched.
