Where Did The Voice Go?

Where did that voice go?
You remember it, right?

The one that muttered

Sharp, syrupy, perforating words

After each compliment

And about everyone else

And then about you again.

Where did that voice go?


Why are my days so quiet?

Why do I notice the world around me

In something other than monochrome?

Technicolor dreams have turned to 

Vivid digital video

My eyes flit around

And see not just the

Greys, whites, and blacks,

But the light yellow rays

Flickering in front

And the red roses 

Braided into ebony hair

And the rainbow bracelets

Tied with twine around russet wrists.


Why do I think about myself so little,

Yet do not think so little of myself?

Why are my thoughts, rare as they be

About others and who they are,

As opposed to who I’d wish them to be?

I hold people in my mind

So differently now

And I hold so many more

In my arms.


It is so quiet, now.

Is this the unobtainable that I have reached?

I always thought

Happiness would be so loud

So vibrant

And oh so obvious

But it’s quiet now.

Makes you think,

But not in the same way.


This poem is about: 


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