There’s a particular cruelty in quiet
when it’s chosen like a fortress
a retreat disguised as cowardice,
a shield instead of a bridge.
We are so good at vanishing,
becoming ghosts in our own lives.
It’s almost poetic, if it weren’t
so achingly human.
I want to ask if you know
the weight silence leaves behind,
how it collects in the corners
of someone else’s chest.
Once, words were seeds we planted—
sprouting leaves of understanding.
But now, untended, they wither;
the roots curdle into resentment.
There is no closure in disappearance,
no surrender, just a lingering ache.
And yes, the heart beats quietly,
but only because it remembers.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: May 29th, 2026 08:30
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10

Offline)
Comments2
Poignant and haunting itself. The poem speaks of the power of silence and its effect. So true yet I ask myself when the other wants the last blow and word can it not be a proper defense? Well written Gray
Yes indeed! Thank you for sharing your feedback Soren
You are most welcome Gray
A haunting write much enjoyed
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.