if silence was golden
why is it then that— 
when you’re quiet
i think i might shatter 
into pieces 
turn into
broken glasses, dusts—
i might turn to fumes
out of anxiety
depression
and regret 
trying to recapture the moment

in retrospect
that maybe i have said something wrong
did something unacceptable
that i may not see how golden silence could be
if the thoughts running
in your head
is how you’re going to end things with me

we’re growing the distance
and we thought
it’s our freedom of explanation
we do not realise that we are
getting deeper in this mess
that you’ve been growing more silent
that i rather spit blood and accept all the jab
than this silence mess me up

this separation
this time and space between us
brought us to some revelation
that you chose not to discuss

i rather be black and blue 
than accept that you withdrew
so how can silence be golden
if anything hurts less than being quiet?