Tempa Singer

“Coexistence”

I sit down with sadness,
not as a guest,
but an old roommate
who’s seen me in socks and silence,
who knows which floorboards creak
under the weight of memories.

Hope sits too,
cross-legged and barefoot,
trailing sunlight in like a leaf stuck to her elbow.
She doesn’t interrupt,
just sets her tea down
next to the ache I haven’t named yet.

They don’t fight.
They don’t even speak.
But the room is full—
like breath before a sentence,
like a song that’s trying
to decide if it’s a hymn
or a breakup ballad.

Sadness folds the laundry of what never became.
Hope hangs paintings
where the drywall still crumbles.
Both are honest.
Both are mine.
Neither asks to leave.

So I pour a drink for each,
light a candle between them,
and whisper:
thank you
for not making me choose.
~T
4/23/25

Photo Capture 📸 Viktoria Grover 💜