The Noise of Silence
with my ex—
three weeks stretch long,
emptiness sharp where their laughter belongs.
The house is quiet,
too clean, too still—
no toys to trip on,
no snacks to fetch,
no lunches to pack,
no baths to run,
no kisses goodnight after stories are done.
No bickering between the oldest two,
no stimming sounds from my youngest—
just silence,
and me.
My thoughts grow loud,
no one left to hide them from,
nothing to keep my hands busy.
So I reach for the bottle,
escape into a book,
and pray for sleep
before the cruel thoughts roar too heavy,
too loud.
At least tonight
there’s a football game,
something to distract,
to blur the ache.
I wait for the alcohol delivery—
raise my glass to the silence.
Cheers.
