“Suspense and liminal space”

Between the tick and tock of clocks,  
Where moments linger, poised and bare,  
A hush collects in shadowed blocks—  
Suspense, a breath that chills the air.

Here, boundaries blur like fading mist,  
Corridors pooled in sepia hue,  
Thresholds not yet touched or missed,  
A waiting line of something true.

Floorboards creak with absent tread,  
Light blinks in heartbeat hesitation;  
Questions coil where silence bled,  
Each wall a page of expectation.

The hallway stretches, nowhere ends,  
A borderland not claimed by day—  
The echoes of a truth that bends,  
A world not gone, nor quite to stay.

Suspense is in the scuffed tile floor,  
The flicker caught on windows’ trace,  
It’s every open, aching door  
That beckons through the liminal space.

Between ‘what was’ and ‘might become,’  
We hover, fragile and immense—  
On thresholds where the pulse is numb,  
We live the architecture of suspense.

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