Holes

We have to wait till words reappear. Till I find
newer ways to tell you stuff. It is all old and obvious
what I have to say. No glitter. No smell of rainy days.

You know, sometimes, the holes left by words
are not filled with silence even.
When darkness hits, even silence evaporates.

And it is a nightmare, to not have words, nor silence.

Silence at least mends. Silence at least yells. Silence at least
listens to you.