The way it makes you read between the lines,
in the blank spaces without an alphabet at hand.
What is this piece it says I’m missing?
It’s only ever missing when silence falls around.
Silence scares me
because it always has the last word -
that silence which comes uninvited, a gap that serves nothing
but can never be avoided.
It makes me doubt if I know myself at all.
When laughter is done and the day has set,
after hours and hours have passed
in avoiding the gap between,
inevitable before sleep.
Something has to fill it,
and it is always hungry;
an uninvited dinner guest.
I serve its favourite starter -
It chews them around its big, fleshy mouth
and demands another course of self-doubt;
and self-questioning, the folding and refolding of past events
as its dinner entertainment.
I must learn to live with it -
to give it what it craves,
but no more.