Silence can be one of my deadly weapons. It's the unspoken desire, thought, belief and hurt; the wound grows deeply as silent gets louder on my head. As my sentence gets shorter from seven words to just one word. It's the unspoken thing with action that creates tension or transcend time. It's the arriving announcement of isolation and adaptation that I get comfortable without you present. As my words became heavier, the silence got louder. I am requesting less of you, but whispers become louder. In between the whispers sits the truth of my silence. Silence became my louder action. Without a closer argument or statement to provide validation of what happened or could happen. My silence became where I counted my losses and embraced myself. My silence is deadly and unkindly but embarks my unselfishness and patience pathway.