they handed me silence like it was a blanket
said it would keep me warm if i held it tight
but it scratches—god, it scratches—under my skin
like a name i was never given, trying to write itself right
i learned early that crying echoes too loud
so i bit my tongue until even my bones stayed quiet
and when they asked what i needed, i said “nothing”
because nothing was the only thing nobody could deny me
i don’t remember a voice calling me home
just echoes wearing the shape of one
i learned to clap for myself in empty rooms
and call that love because no one else would come
sometimes i swear i can feel a hand in mine
i don’t look down, i’m scared it’ll disappear
so i walk like someone is still holding me
and break in places nobody is close enough to hear
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 4:36 PM UTC
they handed me silence like it was a blanket
said it would keep me warm if i held it tight
but it scratches—god, it scratches—under my skin
like a name i was never given, trying to write itself right
i learned early that crying echoes too loud
so i bit my tongue until even my bones stayed quiet
and when they asked what i needed, i said “nothing”
because nothing was the only thing nobody could deny me
i don’t remember a voice calling me home
just echoes wearing the shape of one
i learned to clap for myself in empty rooms
and call that love because no one else would come
sometimes i swear i can feel a hand in mine
i don’t look down, i’m scared it’ll disappear
so i walk like someone is still holding me
and break in places nobody is close enough to hear
Request permission to use this poem