The Edge of the Rooftop

I stood at the edge of the rooftop,
Not to jump
But to see how far silence could fall.

They say pain is loud
But mine tiptoed in.
A hush in the hallway,
A flickering light in my ribcage.
Nobody noticed.

I carried the weight like it was feathers
Invisible,
But dense with grief.

A smile
Perfectly practiced,
So precise
It hid the obituary etched behind my eyes.

I wanted someone to ask,
Not “How are you?”
But
“Are you tired of pretending?”

Because I was.
Tired of rooms filled with people
Where I still felt like a ghost
Auditioning for a role
Called Alive

It wasn’t about death—
It was about release.
Not escape,
But exhale.

So I stepped back.
Not out of fear,
But because I remembered—
Sometimes
A whisper
Can stop a fall.