SILENCE
Lately conversations in the mirror,
Have been a little less reflective,
Like a slightly stained window,
I’m looking through the dust and debris,
For the wrecking ball that modelled,
Rubble out of a soul I called home,
Left comfort in pieces on the wind,
Scattered like a whisper,
Each fragment a little memory,
Of you and everything you were,
A glimmer of the space you opened,
For a heart once hopeless,
Like the faint knocking of bones,
On the doors of an abandoned hospital,
Waiting on a saving hand,
To colour life back into it,
Look at me, a man in the mirror,
If I am the starting line,
How will I know when I am finished?
That the work is done?
And when the curtains fall,
And the stage goes quiet,
With only a single light,
Who will know I stopped acting?
I wear your promise,
Like the flowers they throw on stage,
A piece of fleeting evidence that you see me,
And everything I am, a reflection,
Still, I will look for the piece of you,
I held like a flame on a wick,
For the days the darkness gets too loud,
You burn silence.
~Frankhie
