Behind the peelings and the empty things

I can feel my lips moving,

my jaw flexing,

I can even feel the out rush of air

when I open my mouth,

but all I hear is silence.

The mirror confirms the existence

of my tongue,

so that’s not the problem

and blood still beads from an hour ago,

so I know my heart still works.

I can feel the pain in my back

knife deep, piercing,

so I know I am not dreaming,

but I pinch myself just in case.

I am screaming but my voice

remains silent.

It has decided that it is not worth its effort

any more to keep talking when no one listens,

so it left.

I have searched for it,

under my pillow with the fallen teardrops,

in the drawer next to the blades,

in the box with the torn photos.

But guess where I found it?

It was hiding in the bin,

behind the peelings and the empty things

and the remains of my world.

Silly voice,

but perhaps I will let it stay there for a bit,

just ‘til it is strong enough to shout again.

After all, we all deserve a break once in a while.

Don’t we?