So good at silence now,
I stumble through the world of the speaking,
a stranger again,
another home to be banished from.
Hard to miss, carrying my
solitude like that.
I know what a strange sight I must be,
a broken and fragile beast.
I know you’ve come expecting roaring.
How can I tell you it’s been days
since I’ve heard my own voice?
That even the moon looks away
from me now,
ashamed of what I’ve become.
But I’m so good at silence now,
I swallow even my explanations.
What a waste, you say, and I agree.
A small nod to let you know:
I’m disappointed too.
But this silence – and my fantasies
of nonexistence – they’re all I
have to offer you now.
Sit with me if you like,
for a while,
I don’t mind.
Leave if it unravels you.
I promise I’ll understand.


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