(quiet, isn't it?)
the air holds its breath.
the walls do not move.
the body is still—
at last, at last, at last.
but time does not stop.
the clock hiccups,
then keeps ticking.
the door stays locked,
but the knocking doesn’t stop.
the phone keeps ringing,
but no one picks up.
(were you expecting silence?)
somewhere, the sun keeps rising.
somewhere, the city hums on.
but here—
here, the world tilts,
the sky folds,
the ground sinks beneath them.
a mother grips the doorknob,
hand trembling like a faulty lightbulb.
a friend stares at the unread message,
timestamped yesterday, 3:14 AM.
a lover traces the indent in the mattress,
as if it were a wound that might still close.
they always meant to check in.
they always meant to call.
they always meant to say—
but meaning is a ghost,
and ghosts do not answer.
(are you listening?)
your name becomes an echo.
a prayer, a question, a plea.
your room becomes an altar.
untouched shirts, dust settling like snowfall.
your absence becomes a stain.
not red. not blood. something paler, endless, unseen.
(is this what you wanted?)
the weight is gone,
but only for you.
it latches onto their shoulders instead,
vines curling, thick and unrelenting.
a sister walks slower.
a father speaks softer.
a friend laughs less.
(you left, but you did not leave alone.)
the world keeps turning,
the sun keeps rising,
the birds keep singing,
but for them, the light feels wrong,
the sky feels heavier,
and the music plays out of tune.
(quiet, isn't it?)
(but listen—someone is still crying.)
please know that you are not alone. there are people who love you, who will listen, who want you to stay. reach out. you are seen. you are needed. you are loved <3
