Silence

By Chaitra Ramalingegowda

Silence

laid her head on my shoulder

as I sat staring,

staring at the stack of letters

that housed words,

words that bubbled up,

that beat their way out,

out of my head,

only to be trapped within,

within the folds of sepia sheets.

Silence

stared wistfully at me,

as I shoved the letters,

letters I will never send,

that contained things left unsaid,

unsaid and unexpressed,

for they had lost their meaning,

meaning that gave it life,

only to have died a slow death,

a death unmourned.

Silence

watched the tears

that rolled down my cheeks,

cheeks that have forgotten to rise up,

and eyes that hide a million wishes,

wishes that once had wings,

and the promise of tomorrow,

a tomorrow that was bright and cheery,

only to find myself shrouded in a Stygian veil,

a veil that smothers me slowly.

Silence

is the only one left,

soothing and oppressing all at once,

leaving behind a wisp of nostalgia –

a savior and a killer all at once,

the only friend who lingered,

lulling and disquieting all at once,

she made her way to the end of the road,

disappearing into the crowd

without a trace.

By Chaitra Ramalingegowda