You're so oblivious, and hey, you're right to say it's none of my business, but we have thin walls between us, and the sound of your heart breaking is the deafening sound of one hand clapping. But that's your hand, clapping, your heart, breaking, that I am witnessing. And I'd never say you lied when you said you were doing nothing; privacy doesn't imply hiding. I'm not seeking your confession, but you show it all in what's not seen behind your eyes: a silence deeper than the depths of the Kraken, a muzzle on the vile smile of your silenced banshee.
Hear me: I'm not asking or accusing. Smile or cry—I don't care. But let me in so I can show you I care. You can still be alone. I'll be your Medusa's stone.
Break me with your shrill.
Don't pretend you don't want to.
© Pixel Floyd
***Title Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko***
About the Creator
Pixel Floyd
I write poetry. Inspired by the undefined spaces where words take their chances.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.