Pillbox

Silence

Silence is what I first felt meeting you.
I couldn’t help but notice how your scattered long black hair looked perfect compared to my uncombed
black hair oiling down to my scalp
Just as fast as my entire body rose in shock
As the introvert’s chaotic mind
Went completely
Silent.

With a person with ADHD you rarely have these quiet moments, you see.
I think in weird tangents all across
Images constantly refresh in my head remembering every face and conversation I’ve ever had
But suddenly it was like an infinite loop in my system
Of your smile slightly covered with your straight hair
I love counting
I would “like” hate anyone who said “like” the word “like” too often:
you said it 36 times.
I love painting
The thick paint dripping like a molten river from the brush turning
to blades of grass with dew on them:
you remind me of that.
I love static electricity
I could rip apart wires and build circuits but in the end as I sit writing this poem in the dark:
I hope my goosebumps settle down in the same silence of my mind.

I love counting
While counting the time signature of my favourite song
I’ve opened the door for you one time
I couldn’t help but notice how you walked in sync with the song.
I love painting
And the conglomerated tar requires the endless forces of the brush to ruffle
Backwards and forward
But all I can think of are scattered numbers
Freud calls dreams a wish fulfilment…
Does it mean you’ll only stay in my dreams?
I love static electricity
Like the attraction of particles to be cemented together, bound for life
When Feynman said the neutrino floats and drifts alone in the universe
I felt that feeling that
I didn’t need you
That I was experiencing so much of the universe on my own
Boundless.

I love counting
When I counted how many times I thought my new professors moved a yawn in the people sitting around
me
I imagined where you were turning my head ever so slightly:
Your eyes were closed,
From my boundaries,
Or perhaps I fell asleep before actually turning around.
I love painting
The textures of your callous wrists as they move over the violin
Like the poetry of the mumbling of your fast tones
My brush would break into a thousand wood splinters before I could touch your curvature
And I’m okay with that.
I love static electricity…
I love counting
I love painting
I don’t ramble anymore
I can remember things now
I can breathe slowly now
I don’t panic lying in my bed thinking of whether I’ll get to talk to someone the next day

I love counting,
In how many ways you changed me
I love painting,
A thank you letter to leave by your door
I love static electricity
That I feel from loving myself today

Silence is dangerous, my parents said to me.
My whole life I’ve been told I’m too shy
I used to tell them “my mind is running free”
But now that I look at you
Peace is all I feel.
Silence
That was long awaited by me.