I must make noise to avoid the quiet.
Silence does not come to me naturally.
Silence is the calm before the storm,
The whoosh before the smack,
The grip before the bruise.
It's the suspicious clatter in the kitchen when the lights are all out,
It's the decision to break my heart before the end.
If I fill this silence maybe I can avoid the pain.
Maybe I can stop the crack before it shatters completely.
Or maybe, regardless of the noise,
I'll end up walking on broken glass anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Does the Rain Ever Stop?: Poems and Musings
PoetryHello Reader, This is my collection of poems and thoughts that I have compiled over the last few years. I have been writing for many years and my number one hope is that someone reads my poems and feels seen. Says "oh that's me". We all live in this...
