When Silence Started Screaming

At first
it was quiet.

Just a pause
between heartbeats.
A stillness
in the room.

Then it grew.

The kind
you feel
in your chest
but can’t name.

Not sadness.
Not fear.
Just something
cold
and thick
like fog.

They asked,
“What’s wrong?”
I smiled.
Said,
“Nothing.”

But my silence
was louder
than their words.

It screamed
at night.
It howled
in mirrors.
It sat
on my bed
like weight
on my chest.

I wanted to cry.
But tears
don’t come
when you're
empty.

They only fall
when something's
left to lose.

And me
I already
lost it
long ago.

They still don’t hear.
Because I still say
“I’m fine.”

And silence
keeps screaming.