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.
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