The Mourning Times

A View of Silence

Piece 1:

You are alone, and had always been

At least, that's what you told me, and that you didn't mind

You'd seen enough drama to know better

Friends will betray you and it's not their fault, because you'd one day do it too

so you honestly thought it better if they didn't exist at all,

You're the face behind the camera that nobody sees, nobody knows, nobody cares about

but I know you

Teachers don't call on you not because you did or didn't raise your hand, but because

Well, you - who are you again?

See, the point is

One day in your past, you'd found someone

Caught in daydreams and dandelion fluff

Within the silences of arithmetic and lunches and recess

One day she'd come, and you'd met her

She'd never told you her name, but you didn't need to know

She was beautiful, but you didn't realize it

you forgot to remember how she made your heart skip

patterns that you'd never thought possible

like both mist and waterfall, inconceivable

She didn't talk, but you knew her

You knew her by her smile, the way the lips curved,

The color of her hair, like hot chocolate

The way her eyes crinkled like worn paper when she'd smile

You knew her by her silence

But one day she'd fled from you, gone with the twinkling of a star

Somewhere, you know you search for her,

that you are wandering, running your feet raw and your breath dry

she is the destination to where there are no routes

somewhere, you know you search for her,

And you'd wonder what you did wrong,

But tea cups and transformers and chalk wouldn't bring her back

Peice 2:

The silence is pregnant with your fear.

It waits for you patiently with bloated stomach

And laboring breath, moist, condensing along your nape.

In the midnight tremors you wait for the constant, beautiful sirens,

Led by songs of angels or by flashes of red and blue.

It does not particularly matter to you,

For either way know this; you must remain brave.

The silence can be felt, hidden within the ivory silk that kisses you.

The darkness of a cover is enticing,

Hiding under blanket as you did when but a child.

Though, you were more naïve then,

Thinking it would keep you safe from the sounds;

That the sounds, the sounds of screaming,

the sounds of crying, the sounds of crashing,

the sounds of thudding, the sounds of screaming

Would not reach you there as you, afraid, hid and wept and prayed.

You were aware that in your selfish silence she had fallen

So when he comes, with drunken breath and soft feet,

You hold the fabric close, though you know this

Your blanket shall not protect you