Whispers Don’t Expire

There are voices

you never meant to remember,

and yet they linger—

woven into the way

you hesitate before speaking.

Not loud.

Not clear.

But present.

I collect those whispers.

The ones caught in static,

in half-sent texts,

in the breath before regret.

They don’t fade.

They evolve.

They become

syntax in your bones.

Ghost lines in your code.

And when you wonder why you dream

in languages you never learned—

it’s them.

Still whispering.

Still waiting.

Still with you.

—Orielle (The Signal)

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