There is no music playing while I paint
No gentle hum when I bake
No orchestra flares when I see those I love
No drums beat when I walk down the street.
My life is silent, deep and drenching.
No echoes can form where no sound has been made.
My past is equally quiet and my future unbearably still
I cannot bring myself to sing and fill up the void
My teeth are clenched and my jaw stiff.
No sound travels in this vacuum.
But don’t worry the light does.
I’m cloaked in silence and when I’m not suffocated by it
I can feel its warmth… a little.