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 tried to make sense of things
we were never meant to understand.
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.