THE QUIET

By Jane Briscoe

In it rushes, a backdraft from your leaving.

The vacuum sucks it in,

submerging me in silence.

Panic rises, I scrabble for distraction,

thoughts slip like seaweed.

Sweet nothings on my tongue,

now sour and salty.

Waiting for the tide to turn

and usher out the hush that holds me.

#darkpoetsclub #smallspacedeepimpact #50wordchallenge