it depends

sometimes silence is a cure-all after arguments

if we walk away before all our respect for the other is chipped off

bit-by-bit

if neither party is too loud

and if and only if

we've already hashed it out once

or twice

eventually silence happens anyway

after a peaceful truce, a polite ducking out of the room

“agree to disagree”

ceasefire

neither party puts up a white flag for surrender

but, in not-so-good cases,

someone slams the door

and leaves only silence behind them

it is a bandaid for an oversized wound

the bleeding stops, at least while they're gone

you cannot cut me open any further

in the worst cases, in fatal screaming matches

if you rip pages of old memories from your diary

and I pour out all the unatoned for mistakes like miles and miles of gasoline

the flames will get higher

if you kindle the fire, it will grow

but silence will happen

terrified and resigned, we will walk away

in opposite directions

or with all the energy spent poking and prodding at things

in the room that keeps getting hotter

we will sit down in the burning house

and let it swallow us

when we are no longer anything tangible

there is silence for those around us

the crime scene cleaners will have to come before anything new can be built there

new partners and children will not arrive until the debris is gone

they will have an exorcist come, too, to rid every bit of evil from the newly-built home

until then, there will be a sign that reads for every guest:

these walls cannot love without shame

cannot wake without funeral

even after we are born again, halfway across the world from each other

there is no more blood on the carpet, no strands of my hair are stuck in the shower drain

when everyone is asleep in comfortable sheets

I walk downstairs to double-check that the doors are locked

and I swear - I hear us arguing at the kitchen table

silence - in its most literal sense -

does nothing to stop the noise

and in that sense, it is like a disease

the incurable kind