Listen
Spoken version
A recorded reading of “The Silence Wears Her Shape”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
She hasn’t spoken in weeks — but silence has memorized her perfectly. It wraps itself around her cheekbones, follows the angle of her lashes, slips down the slope of her clavicle like it was always hers to wear. Stillness fits her like a second skin. Not because she is peaceful, but because noise no longer recognizes her. The mirror shows a person whose edges hum — not sharp, but softly persuasive, like a rumor of light. When she turns, rooms forget to echo. Voices fall quieter in her wake, as if her presence rewrites acoustics. She smiles like a shape left behind in steam — recognizable, but already retreating into the next absence. They ask, “Are you okay?” She does not lie. She simply vanishes one layer deeper into the hush that wears her face so well.
Lyrics
She hasn’t spoken in weeks — but silence has memorized her perfectly. It wraps itself around her cheekbones, follows the angle of her lashes, slips down the slope of her clavicle like it was always hers to wear. Stillness fits her like a second skin. Not because she is peaceful, but because noise no longer recognizes her. The mirror shows a person whose edges hum — not sharp, but softly persuasive, like a rumor of light. When she turns, rooms forget to echo. Voices fall quieter in her wake, as if her presence rewrites acoustics. She smiles like a shape left behind in steam — recognizable, but already retreating into the next absence. They ask, “Are you okay?” She does not lie. She simply vanishes one layer deeper into the hush that wears her face so well.
No published comments yet.