Silence that doesn’t scream.

I wake—
choked by a scream I didn’t get to let out.
The shadows still hold him.
Still hold me.

Breath is a battle,
the air thick with fear’s fingers.
My body’s not safe,
even in sleep.

What must I bleed,
what must I break,
what part of me
must I sacrifice
just to make it
through one
goddamn
night
without drowning
in his ghost?

Anxiety claws,
and I can’t breathe.
All I want
is silence
that doesn’t scream.
Peace
that doesn’t
hurt.