Piece and Quiet.

When I picked up my phone, I'd wanted to conjure words of fancy to compensate for my silence.

Then I realised that these verbal spools permutated nothing but excuses.

I've been silent because I'm afraid of plying my wound with salt.

There is so much that I'd like to say and yet, these throng in multitudes only to cudgel and fall away at the tip of my tongue.

I'd very much like to be all cheery and drop a message in the likes of "Hey! Happy Birthday! Look at you! You're doing great! I'm so proud of you! See? I knew you'd take to life in California because you're You. You're amazing." But that would be a guise, a shroud if you will. It masks that which decimates within.

Above all, it reduces the jarring superfluous lingual notions to a singular, "Why?" before fractal shreds grapple to find their place.

So there lies my Silence.

It is not because that I do not care.
Conversely, it is precisely because I do, a tad overtly for my own good.

That which I cannot have, I should not seek.

And so, this Silence which I cling onto is my way of assuaging my grief.

Because I cannot bear to say Hello to you, knowing jolly well that Goodbye will rattle soon after.

After all this time, it has dawned upon me that the pursuit of Happyness is a vicious cycle.

All I want now is Peace,

While I pick up the pieces.