The hallway light leaks under my door
A thin gold lining on the floor
Someone upstairs drags a chair too slow
Like they don't want the night to move
I sit on the edge of the bed,
phone face down beside my head
The city keeps clear and it's thrown
outside Buses breathing in and out
I keep my words lined up at the edge of my
mouth Afraid of how low they might land
It's not silence,
just the moment before I explain myself
Hush,
where the noise finally loosens its grip
And I don't have to perform how I feel
I'm not disappearing
I'm choosing the softest place
And need to stay
The blue glow of a late train slides
across my wall Then fades like a miscall
The siren bends itself around the block
Comes back quieter than it left
I used to fill every pause with
something useful Something safe to say
Tonight I'll let the air finish the sentence I never needed anyway
There's a calm that only shows up when I stop narrating my life
Hush,
not distance,
just space where my breath can land
Hush,
where I stop translating every feeling Into something I can defend
I'm not closing doors I'm closing the echo around my head
Around my head Around my head
The quiet men losing momentum Falling out of the light
But there's a private kind of courage Hidden lower in your voice
And still meaning every lie
No audience,
no clean reaction No proof that I was brave
Just a softer way of holding myself in place
Not hiding,
just finally letting the weight drop down
Hush,
where I stop asking the room for permission
To take my ground
I turn the lamp low Leave the window cracked