Shattered Silence

A Poem by Nowell Dulin

The walls are thick with silence,
a quiet that presses in like smoke,
and every word is a weapon�"
sharp, jagged,
delivered in anger's name.

I learned to keep my breath small,
my voice softer than a whisper,
afraid to shatter the brittle calm
with the truth of what hurts.

The floors creak with unspoken tension,
fists that break, not bones,
but something deeper�"
a trust that fades in the corners of the room.

Love is twisted here,
wrapped in a chokehold,
a promise that bends
until it snaps.

I wait for the storm to pass,
for the bruises to turn to memories,
for the weight of fear
to lift with the sun.

But until then,
I press my palm against the door,
hoping for escape,
longing for the quiet that is mine�"
somewhere, out of reach,
where love is soft,
and home is not a battlefield.