A white kind of silence

I imagine silence with you. A white kind of silence. The sort of silence that mutes out the world – only we belong. You and I would encompass life; even though this sounds terrifically lonely, it’s okay because I will have you. That’s enough. In reality, this white kind of silence is jarring, out of place and distant. We don’t own us. Rather, we have multiple of others – we have convinced ourselves that happiness lies in the other person; that cute girl, this exotic boy. We are never each other’s but other’s. This disparity bleeds. This imbalance cuts. I remain silent. Maybe you don’t get it, maybe you never will. Perhaps I have played this game of inconsistency far too long, appearing too vocally solo when inside, I am a wreck of needs and desires. I wonder why you don’t see it in me; that urge to be close to you, the ghost of a smile as I implant one on your lips – I love that I can make you smile, but I realize too that I am no different, I am not special: other girls have made you laugh before. You talk about them to me. You render me invisible through your unconscious relent that I would be okay. I am in the solid ladder of friendship anyways, why does it matter? This white kind of silence blips a thousand profanity at me, at you – at us. The difference is only I hear it because you have found other stories to read and write upon while I, I continue to wax lackluster poetry on and about you. I imagine noise with you, once. But you don’t fit. With the boundless activity and blue painted walls, all I felt was sadness and detachment. I wonder why you aren’t relevant in a place that reenacts your being – you are, quite the character with endless buzzes of ideas and conversational topics. And yet, I couldn’t place you in noise. I realize I want you in my silence. I still want to think about you even though you have become irrelevant, and that, remains the stubbornness of my soul. In this white kind of silence, I willingly bleed white to keep you in the creases of desire, in that diluted stupidity where unrequited love resides. Perhaps I will remain silly for all eternity, but at least I will be a willing fool. Even as time lapses without my participant, I will still have you in my white kind of silence.

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