I swallow storms, let silence win, Hold back the flood that drowns within. My throat is raw with unshed cries, A graveyard where my truth still lies. I smile like glass—fragile, thin, A masterpiece of caged ruin. They see the light, the gilded air, But never what is dying there. Do you hear me in the quiet? In the way my laughter breaks? Do you see the wounds I bury In the space my heart forsakes? I am a poem left unfinished, A love song never sung, A voice that chokes on longing’s ashes, A story left unsprung. And if I whisper—would you listen? Would you stay, or turn away? Or would my words, once finally spoken, Be just more noise that fades away?