The Silence Holds the Truth

The Silence Holds the Truth

The silence holds the truth,

not loud, not proud,

it slips between the shifting crowd,

where eyes glance once, then look away,

and nothing’s said we meant to say.

It lingers in the waiting room,

the half-spent breath, the shadowed gloom,

in hands that twitch but do not touch,

and words that ache for not too much.

No thunder roars, no answers shout,

just quiet steps that walk without

the need for praise, the need for proof,

the silence always holds the truth.

In rooms where old regrets still sit,

in notes we wrote and never quit,

in lovers’ beds grown cold and bare,

the silence waits, it’s always there.

You feel it more than you can hear,

a pulse beneath the loss and fear,

it’s not a ghost, it’s not a wound,

the silence hums, it holds the tune.

No cries for help, no boasts of pain,

just quiet thoughts that still remain,

and in the hush no words undo,

the silence speaks, it speaks of you