I sit in the quiet room.
Where the walls hold the weight of my thoughts.
The air hums softly with things I can’t say,
And the shadows move around memories I haven’t claimed.
Every breath outlines the edge of my loneliness.
Every sigh leaves a trace on the silence.
No one comes in, no one interrupts this place.
And in its peace, I am completely myself.
The world outside may shout and ask for more.
But here, time slows down to hear me.
A quiet music plays just for me.
A song of being, wild and hidden.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
About the Creator
Emily
Poem lover, word collector, and believer in the quiet magic of language. I write to remember, to heal, and to find beauty in the spaces between silence and sound. Every poem is a heartbeat — a small proof that feelings can become art.

Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.