The Inevitable Silence
@inevitablesilence.bsky.social
Some silences wait to be read.
Writing ash, bone, and aftermath.
🜍
Writing ash, bone, and aftermath.
🜍
Pinned
Into silence.
Into shadow.
Into nothing.
Into shadow.
Into nothing.
All that remains is silence.
September 1, 2025 at 1:26 AM
All that remains is silence.
When I walked away I took the mirror you used to justify yourself. Now you’re left with your shadow, an unrelenting Devil.
July 27, 2025 at 3:31 PM
When I walked away I took the mirror you used to justify yourself. Now you’re left with your shadow, an unrelenting Devil.
We are five.
Four dwell in noise and shadow.
I hum with their breath and between the heartbeat.
I am not the secret.
I am what remains when secrets end.
Four dwell in noise and shadow.
I hum with their breath and between the heartbeat.
I am not the secret.
I am what remains when secrets end.
July 18, 2025 at 3:14 AM
We are five.
Four dwell in noise and shadow.
I hum with their breath and between the heartbeat.
I am not the secret.
I am what remains when secrets end.
Four dwell in noise and shadow.
I hum with their breath and between the heartbeat.
I am not the secret.
I am what remains when secrets end.
I lost that part of me
that got lost in you
that got lost in you
July 17, 2025 at 11:45 AM
I lost that part of me
that got lost in you
that got lost in you
You didn’t lose a person.
You lost an atmosphere.
The peace in your storm.
You lost an atmosphere.
The peace in your storm.
July 15, 2025 at 12:39 PM
You didn’t lose a person.
You lost an atmosphere.
The peace in your storm.
You lost an atmosphere.
The peace in your storm.
You weren’t my loss.
I was yours.
And now you see it...
feel it in your bones.
I was yours.
And now you see it...
feel it in your bones.
July 15, 2025 at 11:08 AM
You weren’t my loss.
I was yours.
And now you see it...
feel it in your bones.
I was yours.
And now you see it...
feel it in your bones.
As Bluesky dims with us:
The algorithm has no love for poise.
No taste for grace.
It feasts on the lowest light
from a chorus of clever apes,
echoing
in curated decay.
The algorithm has no love for poise.
No taste for grace.
It feasts on the lowest light
from a chorus of clever apes,
echoing
in curated decay.
July 14, 2025 at 9:48 AM
As Bluesky dims with us:
The algorithm has no love for poise.
No taste for grace.
It feasts on the lowest light
from a chorus of clever apes,
echoing
in curated decay.
The algorithm has no love for poise.
No taste for grace.
It feasts on the lowest light
from a chorus of clever apes,
echoing
in curated decay.
the bleak midwinter
of summer
of summer
July 12, 2025 at 4:17 PM
the bleak midwinter
of summer
of summer
Not cruel.
Not revenge.
Just done.
The kind of done
that rewrites forever.
The kind of silence
that wakes you at 2am,
screaming into the void.
Not revenge.
Just done.
The kind of done
that rewrites forever.
The kind of silence
that wakes you at 2am,
screaming into the void.
July 8, 2025 at 5:00 PM
Not cruel.
Not revenge.
Just done.
The kind of done
that rewrites forever.
The kind of silence
that wakes you at 2am,
screaming into the void.
Not revenge.
Just done.
The kind of done
that rewrites forever.
The kind of silence
that wakes you at 2am,
screaming into the void.
I don’t carry the past.
I carry the proof
that I’ve outlived it, outlined in every scar.
I carry the proof
that I’ve outlived it, outlined in every scar.
July 5, 2025 at 4:42 PM
I don’t carry the past.
I carry the proof
that I’ve outlived it, outlined in every scar.
I carry the proof
that I’ve outlived it, outlined in every scar.
Reposted by The Inevitable Silence
The memories of the dead hang in a grey gallery.
The ruins have become a garden I walk,
listening to the whispers of ghosts
dwelling in what remains.
The ruins have become a garden I walk,
listening to the whispers of ghosts
dwelling in what remains.
July 4, 2025 at 2:53 PM
The memories of the dead hang in a grey gallery.
The ruins have become a garden I walk,
listening to the whispers of ghosts
dwelling in what remains.
The ruins have become a garden I walk,
listening to the whispers of ghosts
dwelling in what remains.
It was never the pain of heartbreak.
It was the fracture in who I thought you were.
That’s what lingers.
That’s what empties.
That’s what haunts.
It was the fracture in who I thought you were.
That’s what lingers.
That’s what empties.
That’s what haunts.
July 3, 2025 at 5:19 PM
It was never the pain of heartbreak.
It was the fracture in who I thought you were.
That’s what lingers.
That’s what empties.
That’s what haunts.
It was the fracture in who I thought you were.
That’s what lingers.
That’s what empties.
That’s what haunts.
I’ll sort through the words you left behind, so many scattered bones and relics, when the graveyard falls still.
July 3, 2025 at 3:38 PM
I’ll sort through the words you left behind, so many scattered bones and relics, when the graveyard falls still.
I would have stayed had you been open about your life. I understand your choices, not the deception. I would have stayed in some form, changed shape to cool the temperature, but that's better than silence. Instead you sacrificed the only thing that might’ve lasted: my respect.
July 2, 2025 at 2:06 PM
I would have stayed had you been open about your life. I understand your choices, not the deception. I would have stayed in some form, changed shape to cool the temperature, but that's better than silence. Instead you sacrificed the only thing that might’ve lasted: my respect.
I never needed to see all of it. Just enough to see who you really were. And now, I don’t need anything at all.
June 30, 2025 at 2:23 PM
I never needed to see all of it. Just enough to see who you really were. And now, I don’t need anything at all.
My silence was my final act of respect. For what was. For what wasn’t, and for who I refuse to become in response to your failure. I’m not being cruel. I’m being fair to myself.
June 28, 2025 at 3:01 PM
My silence was my final act of respect. For what was. For what wasn’t, and for who I refuse to become in response to your failure. I’m not being cruel. I’m being fair to myself.
That shadow in your heart, the one shaped like my absence, that’s the last version of me that loves this version of you.
June 26, 2025 at 1:01 PM
That shadow in your heart, the one shaped like my absence, that’s the last version of me that loves this version of you.
You won’t find me here. But that never stopped you from looking.
June 24, 2025 at 1:44 PM
You won’t find me here. But that never stopped you from looking.
You blurred the truth. Now I’m the ghost you can’t reach. Intangible. Ethereal. Maybe I always was.
June 22, 2025 at 2:23 PM
You blurred the truth. Now I’m the ghost you can’t reach. Intangible. Ethereal. Maybe I always was.
You won’t find me here.
All I am is the smoke
that escaped your locked and
empty box.
All I am is the smoke
that escaped your locked and
empty box.
June 20, 2025 at 2:23 PM
You won’t find me here.
All I am is the smoke
that escaped your locked and
empty box.
All I am is the smoke
that escaped your locked and
empty box.
Should you look,
I hope the silence is louder
than any answer I could’ve given.
I hope the silence is louder
than any answer I could’ve given.
June 17, 2025 at 2:23 PM
Should you look,
I hope the silence is louder
than any answer I could’ve given.
I hope the silence is louder
than any answer I could’ve given.
I deleted the messages,
not because I forgot,
but because I knew the story
was already over.
not because I forgot,
but because I knew the story
was already over.
June 11, 2025 at 2:23 PM
I deleted the messages,
not because I forgot,
but because I knew the story
was already over.
not because I forgot,
but because I knew the story
was already over.
the moment found in the liminal space between midnight and awake
between dream and silence
where what you once controlled
through guilt and guile
beauty and corruption
now stays its hand
between dream and silence
where what you once controlled
through guilt and guile
beauty and corruption
now stays its hand
June 10, 2025 at 5:48 AM
the moment found in the liminal space between midnight and awake
between dream and silence
where what you once controlled
through guilt and guile
beauty and corruption
now stays its hand
between dream and silence
where what you once controlled
through guilt and guile
beauty and corruption
now stays its hand
Waxing Crescent Moon.
I never rebuild where I was buried.
I never rebuild where I was buried.
June 8, 2025 at 2:23 PM
Waxing Crescent Moon.
I never rebuild where I was buried.
I never rebuild where I was buried.