heaven|deafening silence
She lays alone again in her sheets, with a phone in hand and a pillow between her legs. The dresses and underwear she wore a week ago can still be seen by her floor, clattered and scattered. There are stuffed animals by the window and a knocked-over vase with a flower that just died.
It's 12:04 AM but she's not bothered by it.
She's naked in her bed and had not taken a bath yet but she's not bothered by it.
Her rooms a mess—no her whole life's a mess but she's not bothered by it.
She put her phone aside and covered her head with a pillow.
Because the thing that bothered her the most is the deafening silence.
The deafening silence that reminds her of her loss—of her sacrifice put into vain—the laughs, the kisses, the moments and the tears.
The deafening silence that reminds her that she's replaceable—that she is weak and can never be the girl of your dreams.
That deafening silence that reminds her that she can never be enough, ever. And now it seem that a thousand broken church bells echo of sadness, of defeat and of pain.
You were once her refuge, quiet and serene. But now what?
Ah, yes. The deafening silence.
YOU ARE READING
Heaven, Earth, and a little bit of hell
PoetryA collection of poems, prose and short stories that mirrors the raging storms inside my heart.
