Words hit sharp then harder still

Words hit sharp, then harder still,

door slammed shut, a breaking sound.

Victory clings but tastes like ill,

empty echoes fill the ground.

Dust motes swirl in cracked window light,

where silence spreads its heavy wings.

I won the fight that stole the night,

left us both with ragged strings.

The room holds all that wasn’t said,

cold air presses against my chest.

A hollow crown rests on my head,

this hollow win, this aching rest.

I conquered noise but lost the peace,

and wonder when the silence will cease.