Quiet Rooms

Quiet Rooms

I stopped explaining the ache in my chest,

not every silence is waiting for a name,

some things settle where words cannot reach,

living quietly without asking permission.

People notice smiles more than absence,

they collect bright moments like small souvenirs,

rarely asking what was traded away

to keep the light alive another day.

There were mornings that arrived untouched,

clean skies with no warning written in them,

yet something inside moved carefully,

like glass carried across uneven ground.

I learned how to answer without answering,

how to stand inside crowded places,

how to leave pieces of myself behind

and still appear completely present.

No grand collapse ever announced itself,

only small changes no one could measure,

doors closed softer than before,

music played lower than it used to.

I carried memories without opening them,

not from fear, not from regret,

only because some things stay gentler

when left exactly as they are.

The world kept moving in ordinary ways,

shops opening, rain arriving on time,

people falling in and out of love

while I rebuilt things no one could see.

Now and then I catch my own reflection,

and recognise someone still standing,

not unchanged, never untouched,

only quieter and harder to break.

#Marie381UkWriter