Domestic

Silence is an object here;
Adamant. Sharp. Hard as diamond.
Absorbing faint emotions where

they surface like lost contraband.
It becomes a game. I won't
give up this self-imposed and

satisfying vow. Which you don't,
will not, acknowledge and still
refuse to admit your fault.

Eyes, hands, rigid in the chill
of Hell freezing over, become
bloodless, lifeless, unable to feel

the harsh, unseen damage done,
which could be fatal without the fuel
of eye contact, a change of tone.

So cruel.But
I'm an idiot, you're a fool.