sjsprWriting

Silence came to you,

At a young age.

Amongst the pitying looks,

And the sympathetic smiles.

She took you by the arms,

And whispered:

“Do not give them reason.”

At a young age,

You learned

The worst they could say was,

“She’s just very quiet.”

You swallowed words like liquor,

Bitter enough to bring tears to your eyes,

And hell to your throat but you gagged and coughed and smiled

Because the worst they could call you was

Quiet.

Sometimes,

Enveloped in the comfort

Of your silence

You would forget

Her purpose.

And when you parted your lips,

Shambles of words poured from your mouth like jagged stones,

You tried to seal your mouth shut but they cut roses into your palms and wiggled their way into your marrow and you dug your nails into the soft flesh of your arms just to—

They watched you

Shred yourself to pieces

Lips quirked up in smiles

And you thought

If you could just,

If you

could

just

Dig those words out from your bones

If you could just

Regain your silence.

The worst they would be able to call you is quiet.