I will craft a box for your music and place cords to your vocals.
I will sing the song that you now refuse to sing, and believe me you don’t want my out-of-tune voice to even attempt it.
So do not stop singing
Do not think that the words that come out of your mouth will fall in empty pavements
Do not think that the echoes that drown the content of your words will sound less enticing
I am here, I am present.
And my presence means a warm kiss, a tight hug, an inviting silence when you say you’re okay, because I would know you are not.
Yes it’s okay not to say anything about it
It is okay to just cry until you cry yourself a fountain of youth.
My presence means an ear that does hear, and a heart that’s open to sync with your beating.
So tell me. You don’t need to be silent.
Absence doesn’t just mean an empty space beside you.
At times, it is a response devoid of warmth, a cold kiss, a loose hug, a dismissive “I’m okay.”
And absence also means an ear that doesn’t hear, a heart enclosed by a cold wall it only hears its own beating.
You can be killed by words. And you will be hurt by silence.
You will try to fill the void of his silence by rattling off words that sound hallow even to your very ears.
Until the sound of your voice start haunting you, and you’re left with no choice but to respond with his favorite language-silence.
Maybe then, in your silence, you’ll see that you are worth more than this.
Maybe then, in your silence, he’ll miss the music of your words.
Maybe then, in your silence, you’ll hear the faint beating of his heart in time with yours.
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