Silent Thunder
Thunder rolls through these rooms, soundless but shattering,
Every word you ever spoke ricochets inside the skull, unraveling–
Not a storm outside, but the violence of unspoken things rattling the walls.
Loving you was learning to flinch at quiet, to brace for a crash that never falls.
Once, desire was sharp as lightning, nerve and muscle awake to every threat,
But now numbness claims the territory; the body just another house pet
Waiting for a hand that never comes, a comfort never named,
Words fall from your lips, but all meaning’s been maimed.
You talk of love–once a lifeline, now a punchline,
Every I love you another crash of thunder I pretend is just rain, just fine.
Inside my head, there’s no echo, no tremor, no plea,
Just a dead channel, silence where devotion used to be.
Your touch is a rumor, your breath an empty draft,
The old fear of losing you replaced by the dull laugh
Of realizing nothing real remains, just the memory of something that might have been–
Even the tears refuse to show, as if grieving is a sin.
Lost is just another habit; numb is the only way left to feel,
And thunder can crash forever in this room–I won’t flinch, I won’t kneel.
Reach for me as you will, but I’m already gone–
Lost to your silent thunder, still numb, moving on.