The Sound of No One

I sat in the middle of the room,

listening to the clock eat the seconds.

It is a hungry sound,

the way time bites into the silence.

I am a man of character,

but today, my character felt like a thin coat

in a very cold wind.

I looked at my phone,

that glowing box of empty promises.

No message can fill a heart that is quiet,

no status can fix the rhythm of a lonely breath.

I reached out and touched the wall.

The paint was cool,

holding the secrets of everyone who lived here before me.

Did they also wait for a sign?

Did they also carry the grit of a life

that never quite fit the skin they were in?

I closed my eyes.

I didn't want a "New Life."

I just wanted to understand this one.

The way the light hits the floor at 4 PM,

the way the shadow of the tree

looks like a hand reaching for the glass.

I am loyal to my struggle.

I am firm in my art.

Because the silence is not empty,

it is just waiting for me to speak first.

Success is not being heard by the world.

It is being able to hear yourself

when the world finally goes quiet.