I sit in the quiet room.
Where the walls hold the weight of my thoughts.
The air hums softly with things I can’t say,
And the shadows move around memories I haven’t claimed.
Every breath outlines the edge of my loneliness.
Every sigh leaves a trace on the silence.
No one comes in, no one interrupts this place.
And in its peace, I am completely myself.
The world outside may shout and ask for more.
But here, time slows down to hear me.
A quiet music plays just for me.
A song of being, wild and hidden.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
About the Creator
Emily
Poem lover, word collector, and believer in the quiet magic of language. I write to remember, to heal, and to find beauty in the spaces between silence and sound. Every poem is a heartbeat — a small proof that feelings can become art.
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.