Upon Deaf Ears

I gasp for air while drowning,

lungs aching with breaths the water will not spare.

I scream until my throat is torn apart,

yet every cry is swallowed

before it ever reaches your ears.

I carry the weight of all you buried.

Every promise, every bruise unseen,

every shard of myself you left beneath the soil

and called the past.

Still I remain,

a grave mistaken for a man.

Then comes the question

spoken as though concern could undo the ruin:

“What’s wrong?”

But where does one begin

when every answer has already been ignored?

How do I translate an ocean

to someone who has never cared to drown?

So I offer silence instead.

I swallow the truth,

nod my head,

force another tired smile,

and push the moment forward

because I have learned

that my words are birds with broken wings,

they rise only to fall upon deaf ears.