Where Silence Settles

If I was to speak, would my words pierce the thick silence surrounding me, or would they disappear within it? Not every sound carries through this stasis, which feels thick with something hidden. I watch crowds of people go by, untouched, as if my pulse were floating, lightly, my whisper a soft murmur, always just out of range, never quite loud enough to matter. What are the quiet aches you shoulder, my love? Does guilt wash over you when you pay no mind to the fragile things that are out of sight, or do they quickly lose their charge in your heart? But in the dust I breathe beneath this wooden floor, I trace lines through the cracks, a sanctuary for all that is not seen, an asylum race of cobwebs and shadows, where everything that disappears still tries to approach its place.