The wrong silence

There’s a warm silence

which feels good,like a cashmere blanket

around the shoulders

which can contain what we say

and what we don’t say.

Which unites us.

Then there’s a cold silence

You are telling me not to speak

Not to  come close.

Even worse,it may say

I’d like to destroy you

You are not human

You’re not worth anything.

Daggers drawn

Hate.

Then there’s the silence of indifference,

You see me but feel nothing.

I could be a table or a hat

A book or  potato.

You live in your bubble

And nothing can pierce it.

Even to see me die would not

Affect you.

You seem to have no affect.