Ache Poem by Aria Winters

I've made peace with silence. It's the noise that hurts now— the kind that pretends to care, then leaves.

I used to think loneliness was empty rooms and quiet phones. But it's worse when they smile at you with hollow teeth.

I've learned to sit beside people and still feel cold. To laugh with them and still feel like I'm lying.

They said they were friends. But they only held my hand when theirs were empty.

Now I carry their absence like a second skin— tight, invisible, always itching.

I'm not surprised anymore. But it still stings in places I thought had scarred.