Quiet Rooms

Being lonely can be so loud.

In rooms where quiet gathers,
I sit with hollow light,
A shadow folded softly
Into corners of the night.
The world hums on without me—
A distant, muffled tune—
And I, an unseen ripple
Beneath a silver moon.
Yet in the ache of silence,
A fragile truth appears:
Even the loneliest heart still beats
In hopes that someone hears.