[Whispered intro – faint reverb, tape hiss]
It’s quiet again.
The kind of quiet that hums.
Not peaceful—
just full of everything I can’t say out loud.
There’s a light from the street cutting through the blinds.
Half gold, half grey.
It flickers on my face like it’s trying to remind me
I’m still here.
[Soft beat fades in]
I used to think silence was mercy.
Now I know it’s memory.
Every breath, every heartbeat,
just echoes bouncing off the walls
looking for someone to call home.
People tell you to move on,
but nobody explains how to carry ghosts.
You just do.
You drag them through the days,
pretend you’re lighter than you are.
Some nights I play our songs too loud
so I don’t hear myself think.
Other nights, I sit in the dark
and let the quiet do the talking.
[Low hum builds – ambient guitar tone]
They said love was supposed to save me,
but I think it only showed me
how deep the silence goes when it’s gone.
I stare at my reflection on the window,
not the mirror—
the mirror lies.
The glass just watches.
It doesn’t judge.
It just shows the space where someone used to stand.
[Music swells slightly – vinyl crackle]
And maybe that’s the truth:
there’s no audience for pain.
Nobody’s listening,
not really.
We just whisper into the static
and hope somebody feels the same.
[Short pause – inhale sound, faint echo of a bass note]
But if these words find you—
wherever you are,
whatever you’re running from—
know this:
I meant every line I couldn’t say when you were near.
[Soft piano resolves, fading into track two]
And if the world never hears me,
that’s fine.
Because sometimes,
silence is the only sound that understands.
(beat fades into the first bass pulse of “Echoes for Nobody”)
RobAfterdark
