You inhabit your island of isolation as if it were a soapbox,
using your silence to yell at the world.
Your angry non-words say nothing, make no sound,
articulating pain the way your voice never could.
Those who look on are embarrassed for you.
How is it that you never learned the benefit of vulnerability?
There is humility in letting others share your pain so that we are all more equal.
You choose instead, to inhabit your pain as if it were superior, unique to you - a badge of honour.
But if you wanted the world to leave you alone you could have explained gently, asked for space while you grieved.
It's clear to see you delight in the attention of ghosting those who love you.
Yet even as you ignore us, your soul vibrates at fever pitch, like a virtual scream that can't be ignored - God knows I've tried.
I remember who you are, that you are a good and kind man,
but I'm disappointed by your showy silence, confounded by your lack of insight.
Your soundless tantrum speaks volumes about the lessons you've yet to learn.
You of smart brain with an ignorant heart.
Your muteness hijacks the conversation, robbing those who love you of the chance to prove... not all the world rails against you.
Have you forgotten people want to be given the chance to show they understand?
There are few souls who can't relate to the wrenching pain of losing love as you have.
And with each passing word that is not uttered,
I fear you think there is no way to turn back.
Pride has welled in your throat and stopped the sounds from coming out.
For your own sake I can't help but think that silent soapbox, upon which you perch, should be kicked from underneath you,
the jolt restoring sense and speech as you tumble to the ground.
If you'd speak, that's what I'd tell you.
But you have sentenced us to silence for love crimes perpetrated by another, for which you think the whole world should pay.