Quiet I Imagine

By Agrima Singh

The room in which I danced at afternoon.

The room in which words take shelter before poured on the paper.

The room in which my voice echoed singing that tone song.

The room in which music, words, laughter, memories, pain... echo since that day.

Is quiet...

Quiet when I trapped in the room with eyes wet.

Quiet when I slide down the door with knees pulled up.

Quiet when behind the closed eyes only their angry faces flicker.

Quiet when under the clenched fists only bruises linger.

The room is quiet... too quiet.

And the tragedy, love, is that this quiet echoes loneliness...

By Agrima Singh