remember when we used to talk about it?
i opened up, like you asked me to;
i let it all spill out of me,
and we analyzed
and dissected
and tried to make sense of things
we were never meant to understand.

but now,
i’m simply tired:
tired of talking,
tired of the prayers,
tired of empty words that don’t convey 
what i want them to, anyway.

finally, i see
what silence was supposed to sound like all along. 

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