# Sweater on the ribs

By [alchemist](https://paragraph.com/@alchemist-3) · 2025-08-06

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There’s a child  
in the corner of a heart grown cold,  
feet dangling over memories  
too deep to reach the floor.  
  
It doesn’t cry —  
just listens  
to the echo of voices  
that never meant to stay.  
  
It wears silence  
like an old sweater,  
too tight around the ribs,  
stitched by years  
that asked too much, too soon.  
  
The human walks,  
talks, works —  
but something flickers  
in the space between breaths.  
  
Sometimes,  
the child rattles the walls  
of the quiet room inside,  
and the human forgets —  
_why their hands are shaking_?  
  
They meet  
in moments of collapse —  
when the world feels too loud,  
and the mirror  
shows too many faces  
for one name.

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*Originally published on [alchemist](https://paragraph.com/@alchemist-3/sweater-on-the-ribs)*