Dimana Cinta?

Sometimes feelings behave like cats - they sit on the soul's windowsill, look out the window, and are silent. Not because they're offended, they just need some air and quiet. Everything seems to be in place: promises have been made, hands remember the warmth, and conversations suddenly become cautious, like steps on morning ice. And it's like no one's to blame, love just decided to be a bit of an introvert. There's a slight confusion in that sound - as if the heart has caught itself by surprise. Whether everything is alright or not, I want to believe that the silence isn't hiding a storm, but simply a warm pause between words. Because sometimes even love gets tired of being a playwright and just wants to sit and breathe.