Silent Reckoning

I hate to hear your silent voice, a whisper caught in the hollow of my chest, where echoes of unspoken words linger, like shadows dancing in the fading light. I hate to know that this is what love really does, a tender trap, a gentle snare, binding my heart with threads of longing, while silence stretches like an infinite horizon, each moment a reminder of what’s unsaid. If I had not set my foot here, in this landscape of uncharted feelings, I would not mind the steep, the jagged cliffs of uncertainty, the abyss yawning wide beneath my soul. But I have, oh, I have been hurled into the deep— where the waters churn with unvoiced fears, where love's currents pull and twist, dragging me under, gasping for breath. I cannot enjoy the tranquil, the calm that settles after the storm, to speak without moving my lips anymore— it’s a bittersweet paradox, a language woven in the fabric of silence, where every glance, every sigh, carries a weight too heavy to bear. I am caught in this odd indulgence, this delicate dance of the unsaid, where words slip through my fingers, like grains of sand, and all that remains is the ache of knowing. I hate this silence, this stillness that screams louder than thunder, each heartbeat a reminder, each breath a question unanswered. Yet here I stand, drenched in the heavy fog of our unspoken truths, searching for the light that flickers in the depths of your quiet gaze, wondering if love is meant to be a roar or a whisper, a wild tempest or a soothing lullaby.