You ask me
why am I so loud

why does the sound boil
broil and thunder in my chest
rise up like the wave
vibrate in the soiled earth
pull up and out
strands of melancholy
rageful sound falling listlessly
in heavy breaths
why do my eyes widen
as the screams
leave my lips
and the suffocating noise
burns at your ears
why do my hands shake
my knees tremble under my own
inevitable fall, the weight
the heave
the haul
why do I shake so
why do my lips quiver
like the aching strings
of an odious and
thrumming violin
why does my heart pound
so loud
in sync with my voice

and when the sound drops away
and the room falls silent
and the penny drops
with a clatter
that disrupts the tension
why does the quiet fall so easily
and the blame so succinctly
and why does the shaking
stop
and the numbness
cloud over my eyes
and lips
like mists engulfing the
echo of the
waterfalls crash
against hell or high water
the pale flush of the drained noise
of the quiet within the storm
beckoned by the aching lightning that
holds no sound
and only sharp flashes
why do I sit so poised
legs curled elegantly
eyes half lidded as I let
it wash over you
the crusted horses of that
frothing tide
how can I be so serene
when the walls have trembled
in the wake of my
shaking shouts
in the corruption of my
dark and heady
complexion

am I truly there
to speak
or was it only
in the gallows
of my treacherous mind
to dream up such
madness
that I

girl of quiet

could speak up.