Silence aches..

Why would I tell you that I wanted you to stay? Why should I Write to you? Why would I take in the silence that would come to me afterwards, and what would I do with it? I have enough silence for me, for you and, at times, I think I have it for the whole world. My life has been stitched together with it. I am a collection of letters unanswered, of people who never truly wanted to receive them, in the first place, of the people I could have loved, but didn't have enough words for me. Of the people who never really loved me, in spite of how hard I tried to convince them it was a good investment. I spend my days walking around the quiet, empty spaces they left behind. A part of me goes away with every silence that stretches outwards from now and into forever. So, tell me, why should I give you the chance? Why should I allow you to become one of them? My dearest, I gave you a bigger part of me than I have given to anyone else and I knew I wasn’t going to see it again. I was fully aware of my loss and I didn’t mind it, but now I fear I might get lost, wandering in the big, empty space you left behind. I keep thinking that,if I tell you that I wanted you to stay, perhaps your words would fill the hole where once lived all the things of mine that I offered you. Then, I would live in you and you would live in me. You see, that empty space, I decorated it and was eager for your arrival. I didn’t give you just a room. I engraved your name on my floor. I gave you corridors and windows and a rooftop. I painted your picture and hung in on the bedroom wall. I gave you a fireplace. I wanted to make it a home for you. But now, it will always feel unfinished, unsatisfied, like desire awakened but denied its release. That is the doing of silence and I know it well. I do. So, why would I tell you that I wanted you to stay? Why should I write to you? Because I don't think I could bear to add more of your silence to all the silences that have come to make their home in my body. Then, why am I still writing?