The Comfort of Silence
When words wither of comfort.
I snuggle into the warm blanket of silence
and sip a cup of tears
Until I curl to sleep, holding onto the memory of you.
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[…] The Comfort of Silence. […]
How do we forget? No, we don’t. The hole stays as it is, it doesn’t become smaller every year. No, they lie when they say time heals all wounds. It doesn’t. What time does is to make you grow bigger each day until one day you become too big that wound relatively looks smaller than it is. But then again, there are times you stoop down and you still see that big hole as it is–it doesn’t change. It will never fade. ‘Cause if it did, then we might not have loved at all.
[…] The Comfort of Silence. […]