Hush The Quiet

I didn't want to fall. I wanted quiet, shifted toward comfort that whispered like peace. Anything to hush the riot underneath. I reached for relief that never sank deeper, keeper of silence that mimicked reprieve. If it feels soft, it must mean relief. I broke without thunder—just aching absence, fragments of stillness that taught me to grieve. What stays long enough starts to feel like grief. Desire hummed like prayer through the hollow riot. I didn't want to fall. I wanted quiet.