The weight of Silence

Written by Drew Lewis

The laughter ricochets like coins on tile,

But none are tossed my way.

I sit among the living noise,

a ghost in flesh and suede.

Eyes skim past like skipping stones,

no ripple where I stand.

My voice, a moth with velvet wings,

too soft to land a hand.

The air is thick with stories told,

with jokes that bloom then fade—

but mine stay pressed between my ribs,

like secrets never made.

I wear my quiet like a suit,

tailored, sharp, and neat.

It shields me from the jabs of joy,

the sting of warm defeat.

Yet in this hush, I find a pulse,

a rhythm all my own.

A song unsung, a breath unclaimed,

a silence carved from stone.