not every silence is silent – a poem

an utterance is the heart’s way of shouting
but it does not rupture the enigma of a liminal space,
I am not waiting on the brink of a question, I am only
listening to a smooth swell of musical crescendo

As murmurs become a gentle nudge to fall out of almost-asleep
and into a dream that fills the night silence, not
with noise, but an explosion of colours
and stories we would never think to tell,
infused with (only-imagined) sounds.

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Do I fear chasing, or being chased? – A poem

I wonder if time is walking or running
Does it bruise, does it splinter?
Does it rupture, does it split?

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Silence

Silence is more than quiet. Quiet is the sweeping hush of the stars pressing fingers to their lips so the world stops thinking. But silence steals even the most subtle of sounds and fills the air with everything else.

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