Her name was silence

[build up – haiku] Three spoons in the sink, but no one ever used them. I bled in silence. (...it stayed long enough..., to rearrange me...) [drop – tanka] I folded the note. It just said, “no school today.” I burned the wrappers. Wasn’t mine, but it was there. Wasn’t love, but it was warm. (...the pink line... blinked twice..., then disappeared, like the rest...) [bridge – kanshi] The stain didn’t speak, just followed me into dreams. I stopped counting days. The number still felt like mine. (...not late..., just forgotten...) [hook – waka] She asked, once, in sleep, "Do babies remember pain?" No one answered her. Not even the thing she lost, or the body that held it. (...i didn’t scream..., but i never stopped shaking...) [instant change – haiku] I said I was fine. I smiled, with red fingertips. No one asked the truth. (...i was a room..., with something missing in it...) [drop – tanka] They said, “clean yourself.” I wore socks to the clinic. Kept my headphones in. The toilet hummed like mourning. My knees knew what not to say. (...i felt her slip..., but no one else did...) [bridge – kanshi] It hurt in reverse. Like forgetting how to breathe. No cradle. No name. Just the sound of nothing else. (...i held her in thought..., with both hands open...) [hook – haiku] They said, “at least not...” but I stopped hearing the end. She never arrived. (...i made space..., and then unmade it...) [outro – waka] There is no death here. Only the life that paused once, and never resumed. There was something I once held— now I pretend I forgot. (...i still feel her sometimes..., when the silence gets heavy...)