all numb
as if the skin forgot it was mine
as though the breath forgot it was borrowed
as though the hands forgot they used to reach for something
even if it was just the edge of a table
the corner of a thought
the warmth of a name I used to say without flinching
I sat in the car for hours once
engine off, keys in lap
watching the condensation on the windshield
pretending it was rain
pretending it was movement
pretending it was anything but me
I remember the way my voice used to sound
before I started hearing it through cotton
before I started answering with silence
before I started forgetting what I was supposed to feel
when she said “I love you”
and I said “okay”
there was a time I could cry
not perform it, not squeeze it out as toothpaste
but really cry
the kind that made my ribs ache
and made me feel I was being wrung out
as though a shirt soaked in grief
but now
I just blink
and wait for the feeling to arrive
as though a late train
as though a friend who said they’d come
but didn’t
I tried to write a letter once
to myself
to the version of me that still believed in things
such as healing
forgiveness
and the possibility of being understood
but the pen felt heavy
and the paper looked too clean
and I didn’t want to ruin it with my half-formed apologies
It felt
as if I had something to push against your chaos
now it’s just
static
white noise
a room full of pillows
soft, suffocating
quiet
I keep saying I’m fine
because it’s easier than explaining
that I’m not sad
not angry
not broken
just
all numb
and I don’t know if that’s better
or worse
or simply
what I’ve become

When I was small
I needed nightlights
in the farmhouse by the swamp.

Shadows gathered in corners
like animals without names.

Before the move
I stood in the field at night,
no outline of trees,

the sky clouded,
air held still by heat,
depthless black before me.

Later, streetlamps
cut alleys into squares,
windows spilling yellow

from kitchens and bedrooms,
a neon sign dripping red
onto wet asphalt,

engines keeping the day alive.
Not dark.
Thin. Unfinished.

What I knew as a boy-
dark was company.
It held me,

steady as the breath
in my ribs.
Older now,

I long for that silence.
I have grown
so unafraid
of the dark.

No one will wait anymore—
Here, this silence hums its lonely hymn.
If anyone on this earth remembers the path you once took,
If anyone still hears the echo of the door you closed,
If anyone had stood beside you in that relentless rain—
That rain from a season long forgotten—
Will they return to find you here once more?

On the verandah, where evening moths swarm the fading light,
Or inside, as they reach for a half-forgotten tune—
When the fragile thread of melody suddenly snaps—
A withered petal will tremble, then fall,
Unraveling from their grasp like memory itself.

🇮🇹 Sussurrare nel Silenzio
Nel silenzio non tutto tace.
Ci sono parole che non hanno suono,
eppure vibrano nell’anima
come onde invisibili.

È lì che ti cerco,
tra i respiri che non chiedono nulla,
tra le attese che non fanno rumore.

Sussurro al cielo
ciò che il cuore non osa gridare.
Chiamo la luce senza voce,
e lei mi risponde
con un abbraccio di calma.

Nel silenzio,
la verità non ha bisogno di spiegarsi.
È presenza,
è eco di un amore che non chiede… ma resta.

Così sussurro,
non per essere ascoltato,
ma per ricordare a me stesso
che anche nel vuoto
vive la voce dell’eterno.

— Masi Roberto © 2025


---

🇬🇧 Whispering in the Silence
In the silence not everything is still.
There are words without sound,
yet they echo in the soul
like invisible waves.

It’s there I search for you,
in breaths that ask for nothing,
in waits that make no noise.

I whisper to the sky
what my heart dares not shout.
I call to the light without a voice,
and it answers me
with an embrace of calm.

In silence,
truth needs no explaining.
It is presence,
an echo of a love that asks for nothing… yet remains.

So I whisper,
not to be heard,
but to remind myself
that even in the void
lives the voice of the eternal.

— Masi Roberto © 2025

One day, let's go against the current—let's be different.
Let's break this silence and find our words again.
The world is bound by its rules and laws,a cage of its own design,
So let's deny them all,
And free ourselves from the relentless clamor of everyday life.

One dawn, let's wake and be transformed.
The world won't stop if we rise late,it's true,
But we take too long to shed our rigidity.
And in that time,how many innocent children lose their homes!
How many young hearts surrender their hope,
How many fresh lives are wasted,needlessly!

Perhaps we lack the power to change it all,
Perhaps we have little to give.
But instead of enduring in silence,
Let us choose to be different.
Let us choose to despise the beast in our world,
And let us learn,fiercely, to love again.

started the day in disparate paces
clustered in a rash
Things began.
Disconcerting reality stroke.
None of us had a way out.
I frowned. I trembled.
It’s getting colder outside.

words coagulated in framed narratives
where I hardly find a way in,
though didn’t put down conversing with them;
I hear their voices resounded
tensions as time terminated.
Scrambled in silence,
It's getting colder inside.

We sat across the table.
Two cups of tea.
Steam rising.
Her hands trembling.
My lips moving
but no words came.
I wanted to say, "Stay!"
She wanted to say, "I can’t."
So we let silence
continue and
finish the conversation.
The tea grew cold.

This lilting night
in a world still trembling,
streets sag with silence,
the hush tastes of smoke.

A crow cuts low,
black wing against orange,
leans into the wind,
folds, veers.

Above the trees,
the sky wears a copper bruise,
clouds thick as wool,
the light already retreating.

Air carries the edge of change-
sharp as bitten tin,
wet as stone on the tongue.

All sound brittle:
screen door whining,
tires on gravel,
a match struck to nothing.

your page turning,
the small sigh after,
your breath, mine,
keeping time with the dark.