The deafening silence in the dead, in the dead of night.
So incredibly loud that it pounds in your skull,
so remarkably quiet that it stings your skin.
This is what has buried itself in your head, your neck, your whole body.
The screaming you hear, the silence that is.
Blankets wrap around you, trying to hold in the warmth,
but the stinging cold seeps through you, like a blanket of ice.
Your bones freeze over, but your flesh is on fire.
The tender embrace of the fabrics melts to your frame,
but you freeze inside all the fire.
The darkness of the room brightens your day.
Light peeking through the curtains in single rays.
The shadows that emanate from behind closed doors.
The night ensnared in a single room,
The light encircling all that is dark.