A Silent Sunset

When Words Can’t Speak, When Eyes Don’t Cry — that sort of poem!

Image credit Author

The silent setting sun watches us, the bloodied sky hovers in silence,

That finger pointing at me,
my bleeding chest, facing accusations of
what it is, and what it actually isn’t!

You, yes, you, only you could do that,
make a fuss, a show of
what it isn’t, to deny what it is!

Reality, yes, it is such a subjective thing,
mine versus yours, and what it actually is!

Don’t worry, I won’t say mine,
or undermine yours,
My lips are dry, my soul parched,

how do I even utter those words,
caught in there, in my throat,
that it hurts to even sigh, or whisper,

and those words, aren’t ready, though
restless to come out, yet,
it is silence, that I choose,
not to defend myself, but to uphold that truth,

that you seem to ignore, that you abhor,
as caught in your petty world view,
there’s no one anywhere,
that matters,
whose pain…