some mornings,
the silence is so complete
it hums like static in the bones.
the coffee grows cold before I remember
to sip it.
the window stays closed
because opening it means admitting
the world is still out there.
I think of the version of myself
who used to laugh with both lungs,
who trusted light,
who didn’t flinch at the sound of footsteps.
but now,
even time moves carefully around me—
like I might shatter
if it breathes too loud.
some days I don’t speak
because no one asks,
and I forget
that I have a voice
at all.
I fold the days
like letters I’ll never send,
hide them under my ribs
next to the dreams
I couldn’t afford to chase.
and at night,
when the stars are too kind to watch,
I stare at the ceiling
and pretend
I’m not still waiting
for something
that left years ago.
From Cape Town, South Africa, Khumo Gaji is a writer and student. Khumo developed a passion for poetry as a means of self-expression while pursuing a degree in Chartered Accounting at the University of Cape Town. Poetry is still the most authentic means for him to express his feelings and thoughts, even though he is not a professional writer. He writes in mainly free verse and uses reflective storytelling to capture silent moments, unsaid emotions, and the complexity of life as a whole.