It lingers between small talks,
things best left unsaid.
All that remains
is the silence, so dead.

Nervous, little peeks
when the eyes refuse to meet.
That lump in your throat
at every heartfelt greet.

Staring into empty space
like you lost your muse.
Why was the courage hidden
if it was of no use?

The mind begins to burn
and the smoke grows thick.
It creeps into the heart
and makes you sick.

The silence then grows
with each passing moment.
Memories cloud your eyes
and make you repent.

The tongue begins to sting.
So much to be said.
Yet, all that ever remains
is the silence, so dead.

Things remain unsaid
when words begin to fail.
That excuse you make
is just another tall-tale.

That tension in the air
when you pass each other by.
That lump in your throat
stays, and you wonder why.

Dodging the questions
for there are no answers.
Wishing for things to go back
to the way they were.

They still linger between small talks,
things which were left unsaid.
All that will ever remain
is the silence lying dead.