Once There Was A Bitch Named Poetry

Please Turn Down The Volume

You hated noise;
like the sound I make
when eating food.
   I learned to eat in silence.
Our voices don't meet
in the same
                 wavelength;
turning whispers into
shouts.
I should've whispered,
       "It's okay.
              It's fine.
                   We got this."
Then the words
travelled
into hot air,
mistranslated by
entropy as
                   hate.
We can blame the noise.
The words, however,
were the same:
        "I can't love you
                       anymore."
Forgive me, then,
for the noisy business
of picking up
                     the pieces.
I haven't learned to heal in silence yet.