A Literati Mafia Collaboration: Part II
there was a time when it would settle, a threadbare mantle covering all the things that buzzed and hummed inside, demanding stillness. but now it is the rasp of snoring children, the score of tires on asphalt, the whisper of birch leaves. it does not cover so much as it permeates from the outside in. penetrating skin and fascia and muscle and bone until there is no more to traverse unless it were to exit. and that it will never do on its own. it is still made to settle, preferably in the supple bowl of my diaphragm, until breathed out by forces beyond control. only then is it reality, when it has been stealthily captured and exhaled in the guise of my own air. only then can i call it silence. and that silence is the enemy of mine enemy, welcome yet conniving; it scuttles frustration and exhaustion while allowing room for contemplation on all those things unthought, undreamed, unfinished. and those ruminations fill me with dread and delight as i sit with them: they bloom, night flowers in the moon’s thrall
Our silence will never be quite loud,
We keep to ourselves so the rest of the world does not have to bare its weight,
But some days, I need you to speak up,
When I can’t (or when I won’t) because I need to know you’ll be able to handle my silence,
Even when it seems like you can’t handle your own.
It’s the calming of the storm, before you realize the damage that’s about to hit,
The way the ocean stills, as though its ready to scream every hurt and regret you’ve caused
Your silence has never felt more suffocating than when our backs are turned,
When we can’t stomach our pride and childish emotions.
It can be the most beautiful thing in the world, or the most lonely,
A peace of mind just out of reach, or the chaos that rips you apart.
Why can you never be easy to decipher?
Silence, silence, why must you come to me when I can’t handle you
I crave you when you’re just out of reach,
The noise and static too much for my gentle mind to handle at once,
And yet, when I wish you would whisper your love to me,
Scream that you never wish to leave my side,
The only thing more defining than the silence is the way my heart shatters,
Piece by piece, falling deeper into that ocean that stills upon the touch of another.
Mockery of my pain, a treacherous journey of what ifs, whys and hows; a habit used by too many to avoid life’s difficult trials. Days pass with hope that it will end, bridges burned will someday mend, time telling me that it’s not real, despondency ensues, and if love does renew, just a blip ‘til silence resumes again.
Sometimes on rainy days with foggy skies, I feel the quiet with soaking skin, embrace the time to gather thoughts, walk paths on which I haven’t tread. These paths alone, longed for companions, detaching more as I press on, I hear the song within my heart, at higher frequency than most can hear.
Will the void be filled by a special one, who hears my inner screams and groans?
Desire, passion, the will to love, or will silence consume these all at once; when time shows me it’s meaningless to hope for respite in a world where euphoric pings and bells distract from what is truly wanted, crippled by fear of rejection, silence, the most wearisome life lesson.
©️ The Literati Mafia – 2018
A collaboration of Mafia members Fighting the dying light, The Melancholy Spitfire, Caribou Crossings, Chelarose, (re)imagining the mundane, My Bleeding Words, A Writer’s Soul, Pretty Kool Dame, The Life of a Dreamer, The Pretty Poems