Pages that Speak Again

The stale scent of smoke lingers here,

a chipped mug holds echoes of our night,

I search through the drawer for some piece of peace,

yet find a dog-eared page where silence took flight.

Each word we never spoke sits heavy like lead,

the ink bleeds memories—what we both dread.

I read it again, words fade and blend,

a cycle of hurt, where will it end?