There are days
When the mind is a crowded street,
The heart a locked room,
And yet,
The mouth stays shut.

Cause you don’t want to speak?
No, no, no,
Cause no alphabet you know
Can carry this heaviness without breaking.

You feel it—
A lump of storms lodged between
Your ribs and your throat,
A thousand sentences
Fighting to be born,
And none of them strong enough
To survive daylight.

So you let the quiet
Wrap itself around you,
Like an old blanket with holes—
Worn,
But the only thing
Keeping you from coming apart.

In that silence,
You’re not hiding.
You’re holding.
You’re keeping safe
The parts of you
That would shatter
If they were ever touched by noise.