The sound of my sadness is silent. It looks loud, but it can barely catch its breath. I think a part of me died that day and you know it too. Everyone does and they’re lying if they’d say otherwise. So, where should I go when the music fades out and it’s late at night and the winding road feels tempting? When will my laughter not be enough? Does the part of me that’s no longer here still miss me too? I’m not sure how any of it works because sometimes the sadness is infinite. There’s a tear in the seam and my spirit is leaking all over the place- I hope it creates a path so that I know where to find myself when I get lost. I’ll welcome myself home like I never left, right? Stories are as happy as you make them and even though sadness stained every chapter, you can still write about blooming flowers. Endless laughter. Roads that snake through the cornstalks. Endless trails that always lead home. The peace in silence. My sadness screams silence. Maybe there’s solitude in silence after all. -AMT©️