It’s a strange phrase
‘Dead Silence.’
But it’s starting to make sense to me now.
The night lingers, and my fingers close
Around it.
You know, the knife.
Slowly but surely, around the hilt.
Something streams
Slowly but surely down the skin
Of my hands, and it’s dark.
Thick, warm.
Kind of gross, actually.
It’s quiet at last.
Silent. Beautiful.
The silence, not the view.
No regret, just relief.
Finally,
A bit of peace and quiet.
In the dead of the night
Dead silence
Envelops the dead bodies, and I smile.
