a silent mass

I never wrote a word, not until

I’d said my peace,

misconstrued and gnawed on,

beaten to a pulp,

dead as embers—burnt black on arrival

to a silent mass, ready

and aching to be heard.

silent is the night

Happiness &

Sadness

bleed

into one

single

droplet, which

slowly

falls

from cheek

to chin, while

the sun sets

and small houses

glow

I’m reminded

it’s not over

yet —

silent is the night —

it’s still

so

far

from

the beginning.