Hazrat Usman
A lover of technology and Books
Some wars leave no bruises. No broken bones. No torn streets. Just eyes that stop glowing. Voices that grow thinner. Hearts that forget how to trust.
By Hazrat Usman Usman7 months ago in Poets
There are chairs that stay empty. Not because they were never filled, but because no one asks where the person went. They stop showing up and somehow, it becomes normal.
We were never the ones who shouted. Never the ones in the center of rooms. We lived on the edges, where the noise couldn’t touch us.
There are days that come and go without meaning. Not bad. Not good. Just silent. They don’t ask for anything. They don’t offer anything back.
Each morning I wake like a thief. Another day in my hands one I thought might not come. I walk quietly through borrowed time. Wearing the weight of all the yesterdays that almost took me.
They didn’t break me with fists or fire. They did it with absence. With silence that echoed through every room I stood in. They once held my light in their hands. I gave it without fear. That was my mistake.
At first they asked how I was. I smiled, said “fine.” They believed it. Or they wanted to. So they stopped asking. Then came the days where I said nothing. Just nodded. Just passed by.
They all smiled and walked by. Not one paused to ask if I was breaking. Maybe I got good at pretending. Maybe they just liked the mask.
They lie beneath the soil no name, no stone, no dates to mark when they began or when they ended. Just dirt, just time, just absence.
They never said they were wrong. Not once. Even when their silence cut deeper than anything they spoke aloud. Even when I stood in the middle of the storm they made alone, drenched, and forgotten.
It’s not that they shouted when they left. It’s that they didn’t. No warning. No explanation. No sorry. Just quiet. Heavy, dense, suffocating silence.
I gave everything and more to people who only wanted pieces. I stayed long after they stopped looking at me like I mattered.
