Unseen

"You're not emotional, you're quite cold, actually," he said,

I blinked

~

Yelling from the rooftops in electrified bliss,

crying in a mess of frustration and fear,

laughing and kicking feet, to-and-fro

That isn't me,

privacy is not always a locked door and key,

not always a cut chord or blinded window

~

At home, running into walls of stone,

a beautiful child nothing more than a fly in the kitchen,

a never ending tip-toe between "quiet" and "stop that"

A bottle of black sits where a display was,

things once performed are kept within,

they deemed it mute, unseen

But numbness isn't always the company,

invited to play in a jumble of experiences,

made music when strummed by the hands of sensation

Just because I show none,

does not mean I feel none

~

Cries met with punishment,

happiness met with silence

The fox in the wood does not speak

she is not deemed lacking and she is wise still

I will speak,

I may not show

~

"We speak the same language, yet you will misunderstand," I said,

He blinked