A full void

The voices, they boom, and
I daren't call it noise
for they speak in tones of grandeur,
as if to portend their own
importance.

I can never quite understand,
how words can shoot like rockets,
how
they can seem to swallow each other up
- an hourglass choking itself.

My words, they glide on paper.
My thoughts, they float in mind.
That is not to say
I have nothing
to say
for this is just my kind.

Guffawing may be a thing,
but to me it's not worthwhile,
and when all break into hearty cheer
the most I can manage
is a smile.

The quiet, we are 'cold' souls
accused of nonchalance.
If only they knew
just how much
we knew
while not part of common parlance.

Sometimes I think they'll never know
(like a moon that can never know the sun)
the longing to speak with -
not to
- someone.

It's me, not to be loud,
And I'm pretty sure
that's
allowed.

--

Author's note: I think for many, silence is seen as a void - a gaping hole in a world of buzz and chatter - but for the quiet,  I think it makes the world whole.