Somewhere there exists a meaningful silence.

These castle walls hold a fateful silence.

Eyes meet across the great hall;

there is beauty in hopeful silence.

Mouths full of sweet, sweet breath;

a confession of love, then: wistful silence.

A parting kiss on the forehead and

with it, a sorrowful silence.

The water lies as still as a body;

plucked flowers float in careful silence.

Elsewhere—the air is thick with futile vengeance;

shrouded thorns bristle in resentful silence.

Understanding that all that lives must die;

daggers are coated with sinful silence.

O dear Ophelia, we’ve been dead since we woke up,

God be wi’ you—the rest is silence.