Silent Hallway

The linoleum gleams dull,

fluorescents flicker, hesitant,

holding their breath over

dust motes and faded scuffs.

Lockers lock their secrets

in metal quiet,

the only sound the soft scrape

of a chair shifted far away.

The scent of old wax and cough syrup

hides behind closed doors,

while footsteps echo faint,

a memory wrapped in cold air.

This is a silence

that holds more than absence,

a weight settled soft

between locked rooms and still desks.