The Silence

No words for me, my love?
Must you continue in silence?

You could tell me you never should’ve abandoned me, that you miss the feel of me in your arms and the way it felt when I caressed your face

You could tell me that you long to kiss me deeply and make long, intense, body-shaking love to make up for lost time

You could tell me you feel nothing for me, that you never did and you never will, that you used me to pass the time

You could insult me, call me names, tell me I’m not the one, break my heart all over again

You could tell me truths
You could tell me lies

You could say anything

This quiet torments me like being lost and alone in the dark on a moonless night, unable to see, afraid to move forward, unwilling to move at all

You trapped me here… Clever of you. Are you watching me through unfeeling, glass eyes? I think you like this game.

I’m trying to find my way out
I softly, tentatively whisper into the black ink of night

No words for me, my love?

22 thoughts on “The Silence”

  1. Silence is worse than knowing, in its own way – with knowing, at least you are either damned or saved, and both cases, you know how things are. With silence, all you have are questions and the horrible, horrible limbo of the in-between: is it damnation? Salvation? Which?

    I love this. It’s so painful, so real, so true.

    Liked by 1 person

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