Silence

Silence, once golden,
burns red in my mind.
Avoidance is salt
rubbed into an open wound.
It stings until tears cool
the gash and washes the memory
of the recent past to ash.

The cream curdles
in the morning coffee
and leaves a lingering aftertaste
on my once-pink tongue.
It is black now with pain,
tarnished by your actions
or maybe by mine.

The hurt has faded
and is replaced
by a Novocaine numbness.
Not quite without feeling,
but a silly, swelling facade
devoid of sensation except
for an occasional tingle,

more of an awareness.