Ficly

Dead Air

I could not write
I could not dream
And yet
In retrospect
It seemed
To me
The strangest part
Of all these things
Was that of all
That I would miss
The most I counted
Of all I lost
Was that I could not sing.

I took a breath
I forced it out
I tried to scream
I tried to shout
But in the silence
All I heard
Was soundless tears
And empty words.

I could not dance
I could not sleep
But still
Of all
They took from me
The cruelest part
Of all I lost
My hobbled feet
My broken heart
The loss I mourned
More than these things
Was that in the dark
I could not sing.

I filled my lungs
I tried again
My noiseless tongue
As mute as death
And in the silence
All I heard
Was the dark, a net
Around me whirled.

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