You used to talk in circles,
Now you don’t talk at all.
But your silence still screams—
It just echoes off my wall.
No texts. No tantrums.
No fake “how are you?” lines.
Guess when the truth got louder,
You ran out of rhymes.
But I’m not scared of quiet.
Not now. Not anymore.
Because the day I wrote my story
Was the day I slammed the door.




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