Your silence often makes me feel as if you are just a figment of my imagination. That I question if you exist for real because I write to you.
Your silence sometimes makes me feel that my being must be some sort of a delusion. That I question if I even exist for you to respond to.
Kind words were just not spoken; kindness was always exhibited - some times lovingly and other times out of helplessness.
Do not confuse me to be talkative because I use many words and the most selfless gesture has always been unsaid.
I do not
have it in me to speak the most important of the things I do for you and I have
it in me to endure this suffering in silence. Because everything I did and say
was from the deepest 'whole' that lives in me and not just a 'part' of
me.
