I missed it

The river inside me once surged with unyielding force its waters wild and restless, breaking through every dam

I reacted with the fury of storms, with the tenderness of melting ice

I was a flame that burned too bright, too loud, mad with feeling, dizzy with the chaos of love and pain

Every moment was a tempest

I trembled, I laughed, I wept without shame

I lived inside the very edges of madness, because to feel less was unthinkable

But that river has run dry

not by choice, not by will, but by countless silences swallowed whole, by countless touches that never reached, by countless words that turned away

The warmth was squeezed out slowly like light fading through cracked glass and what remains is the cold stillness of stone

There is no longer a storm inside me, no eruption, no thunder, even the smallest joys fall like rain on dust, unable to awaken what has been sealed away

Love too has become a ghost, a distant echo barely remembered, not because it was lost but because it was never truly held

The fire that once made me burn like madness has cooled into a quiet abyss

I miss the chaos, the madness, the reckless dance of feeling

I miss the way my heart shattered so violently it bled light

I miss being alive enough to be undone

Now I am silence, not silence as a choice

but silence as numb, a body hollowed by absence, a shadow walking through a world that expects color and finds only gray

To feel so much and then nothing at all is not peace, it is a slow erasure, a disappearing act performed by the soul

I have not stopped needing to feel

I have only stopped trusting that feeling will not break me more

There was a time when madness was my refuge, now it is a lost sanctuary and the silence I became is the echo of all that was taken, not by storms, but by quiet departures, not by fire, but by cold neglect

This silence is my true self now, and in it, I wait for a tremor, a spark, anything to remind me that beneath the stone the river might still flow.