If he could know

If only he knew how deep this emptiness runs— how long I’ve been choking on the air he stopped giving. How long I begged, silently, for reassurance, for him to just see me. If only he understood: bruises make more sense than silence. Pain you can see hurts less than pain you can’t name. My mind only trusts what leaves a mark. Silence doesn’t. It just hollows you out. If only he knew I needed him— soft, gentle, steady. But he found no peace in me. And because I couldn’t be that peace, he gave me nothing. Not words. Not touch. Just silence— the kind that rots love from the inside out