The Violence of Silence

Its amazing how one can look back on something and mark the tell-tale signs that were there glistening  in the dust all along...it was so easy to overlook those darting eyes and greetings met with subtle coolness... and the way the entire room that was bustling with conversation only seconds earlier  suddetly goes quiet in your wake...and then there were those who you rang the bells of friendship with whom you thought had loved you but were, in fact, struggling to tolerate you...meanwhile here I go. skipping and chirping and thinking everything is pie...I  never had a clue..absolutely no idea that anything was even wrong....it seems that i was the only one though... and its so easy to see that now...it sucks being the last to know.. everything around you begins to take on this hazy hue of shame and humility ...pressing my pleas  like my resolve firmly into the palms of those nearest to me grasping desperately for some small piece of perspective ...my queries like knives trying to slice through  your silence only to find there isn't a blade nearly strong enough to cut through that cold steel reserve ...it simply is what it is...the violence of silence.. so effective... so manipulative...and so f*****g brilliant for one can stay mad forever under its umbrella.. safe from thundering accusations and yet still able to drop hurtful hints like  acid raindrops that in and of themselves mean nothing but strung together become a raging storm  ...it allows them the freedom of never having to serve up platters of explanations for either themselves or the other person  stealing their valuable  apologies right out from under them like the obvious rug they walked upon for years....gone.. gone.. gone..

and u never even knew it was there....

...until it wasn't