The silent change

Once, my words were rivers,
flowing freely into your hands,
laughter echoing in shared spaces,
secrets blooming in the quiet.

Now, the echoes fade to whispers,
half-heard, half-held, half-lost.
Some of you have vanished like dusk,
and those who remain—
their ears are full of everything but me.

I try to speak, but my voice dissolves,
drowned in the weight of what’s missing.
I used to offer my heart in handfuls,
but now, I keep some for myself.

So I sit with my unspoken thoughts,
not as a prisoner, but as a friend.
I am learning the language of solitude,
not as a burden, but as a gift.

Even in silence, I still exist.
Even alone, I still grow.