the words I kept

𝓣𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂­𝒅𝒖𝒆

I choose to be alone in silence—

for in the absence of sound

there's no cold turning away,

no cutting off mid-sentence,

no salt in open scars.

I choose to cry over loneliness—

for these tears are mine.

No borrowed sorrow 

standing in,

no shadow at the edge of my eye,

claiming what it didn't carry.

I choose to admire the bright ones from afar—

the achievers, the beauties—

for distance softens the sting.

Their light still shines,

but it never blinds—

never burns like envy might.

I choose to throw my agony to the wind—

for the wind moves softer than words.

It carries my screams and sighs

beyond hearing,

beyond holding.

I choose to cradle joy in dreams—

for dreams stretch endless,

elastic, 

untouched.

There, night is a gentle keeper,

and joy has no edges—

no end.

༄

- 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓮𝓽 𝓘 𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮

༄

Author's Note:

This piece is deeply personal. The Quiet I Choose speaks to the parts of me that have often chosen stillness over noise, and solitude over chaos. In my silence, I've held pain close, admired others from afar, and whispered my grief into the wind. Yet even in the ache, I've cradled joy in dreams. This poem reflects how I've learned to live with my scars—not by erasing them, but by protecting my softness and choosing peace in their presence. It's about the resilient strength found between wounds and wonder. 

Where is your quiet place?