In silence it echoes…

In silence it echoes twice as loud.
The sibilance sounds softly in my head
And reminds me of heady sweetened Irish.
They like it when I’m quiet.
Quietly the loss is borne and the pain relived.
Only the joints sound now – creaking and moaning like an old woman
Past her prime with nothing left to lose anymore.
But remembering everything.
And everything is suffered in silence.
In silence it echoes twice as loud.

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About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
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