There are some murders
that leave no body behind.
No blood.
No weapon.
No visible crime scene.
Only a silence
where something once trusted
used to live.
A moment can be murdered.
By a sentence.
A hope can be cut.
By a careless word.
A relationship can begin to die -
not always from one terrible thing,
but from the same wound
given again and again.
Because once words leave us,
they do not fully return.
Someone may forget the exact sentence.
Memory may soften it,
or twist it,
or carry only the bruise.
Or a scar.
And scars may fade -
but do they ever
fully disappear?
We have all been guilty,
at some point,
of murder.
The murder of a moment.
The murder of someone’s courage.
The murder of tenderness
that had just begun to open.
So be careful
with what you say.
Not because silence is always better.
But because words
have hands.