Blood in the Quiet

Silence isn’t quiet — it’s the scream stuck in my throat, the venom dripping from broken teeth, the promise shattered on cracked floors. Your silence is a fist beating against my ribs, each unanswered breath a knife twisting deeper, a war waging beneath broken skin. I claw at shadows grasping ghosts that slip through bleeding fingers, love drowned in the dark, where silence is a battlefield and nothing survives.