I Needed this Silence

The knocks on the door are unbearably loud tonight. 

The scratching of my pen did not drown it out for long.

I thought the rain would sooth my soul.

I tried. 

I'm running out of ink, and I'm not sure what else to make of it.

If I could apologize and mean it, I'd write you "I'm sorry" a million times.

But I'm not.

The knocking at the door has grown quiet.

I do believe it's a peaceful note to leave on.