There are many types of silences. Some one of little account. As this silence arrived, left. Others leave a deep furrow in the soul. As an excavator whose mechanical shovel affects the design of its teeth in my heart.
I remember the first silence with you.
“Don’t get angry, speaks with me, help me to understand you”. Silence.
A few words and even if we knew from a short time, were the right words at the right time; no more to say.
And I fall in love. Silence has brought my heart on that route from which i would no longer be able to return; I knew you for a few weeks and i was entangled in a tow that is certainly I had chosen. That sentence had chosen me, that silence. And so, shortly after, I have handed over the keys of my house, then you leave here your toothbrush, I made you space in a drawer…
More then five years have elapsed; and two houses, a dog, a daughter, and thousands of silences of little account that have passed, and thus as they arrived, they are gone.
Also these silences leave a groove
But its resemble more to a key that line a bodywork.
These silences make a deafening noise in the heart; I feel it rumble and slam, poor my heart. Beats so strong that seems to burst; when he accelerates, the breath struggles, mind sinks in the darkness as in a Dylan Dog comic.
This is a silence that destroys and blurs. Every time it falls takes a piece of us, voracious. It feeds of my fear and grows. These silences are difficult to retrieve, cause huge cracks that are waiting for the next crack, to destroy everything. Ward them off with a cry, a tear, with anger, by any means; otherwise slowly they feed with my fear and wiping out everything.
And we will not remain that silence.