Silence is eraser shavings.
It is the space in-between a smile and a goodbye. A word and the page it is no longer on.
Silence is a mouth interrupted. A hug halfway through. An arm around the waist for a second.
It is the last three words of a sentence cut short. Because no one was listening anyway.
Silence is an unsent letter.
It is signing your name by listening too hard.
Silence is a siren on what must be a busy street, the clatter of what must’ve been a misplaced dish, the beep beep beep of a dial tone.
Silence is when you hear the most
Because you’re listening so hard
For something else.
This is just me thinking and telling you about it.
Silence is a lot of things. But silence is mostly what you make it.