The trees were blooming around me as the air in my lungs grew more constricted
A snake stealing my life for its self,
Wrapped tightly around my jugular; a necklace I can never take off.
Your silence sounded a little bit like this.
The slam of the door cutting against the door frame,
Black and blues on the walls hands from the earthquake it would’ve left behind  If it had been slammed
Or touched at all.
 
Your silence sounded a little bit like crouching behind bed frames, your breathing muffled in her mouth
Would have been muffled in her mouth
Was muffled in somebody else’s mouth:
Your silence sounded a little bit like a freight train.
The color of the walls a dark grey, the screeching tires skinning its knees on the tracks,
A book curled against my lap doing it’s very best to distract me from the noise,
Your silence was a little bit like the absence, of silence.
The ringing in your ears you’d imagine having as if a lightning bug made a home inside them,
 
White noise, spitting its guts against every inch of your body.
Your silence was the farthest thing from silent.

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