There’s a strange silence that settles over the house
A kind of uncomfortable quiet that sets in
It happens in the later hours
When patience is stretched thin
It starts with the ridiculing and little jokes
That aren’t as funny as they seem
It ends with the strange little silence
And a bitterness sweetened with the word “mean”
It’s moments like these I feel a little colder
And remember who I am
Yet if I told anyone in this strange hour
I know that it would be met with dismissal and ban
I can still feel its tendrils curl
Around my stony, black heart
And I know that if I tried to smile
Old pain might just start
So, for now, I escape to sleep
And writing down each thought
And hope that tomorrow I’ll forget about this night
The night when everything fine was not
***
I think we’ve all had nights like this, whether alone or with others. They’re strange times, especially when it gives you a different perspective with how the world operates. I do not enjoy these times, but I do so their value. I hope I portrayed that indescribable emotion well enough.
Alice Griffin Writes 