Speak of the Silence

Don’t speak of gardens.
Don’t speak of the moon.
Don’t speak of roses or the sea.
Speak of what you know.
Speak of the thing that rings in the marrow,
that flickers in your eyes, dancing between shadow and light.
Speak of the endless ache in your bones.
Speak of vertigo,
of respiration, of desolation,
and of your treason. 

It’s so dark.
So silent.
This process that grips me.
Just speak of the silence.
The heavy, unspoken truth. 
The silence that holds it all together.