It strikes me that silence is a secret language all in itself.
It can say nothing, yet speak volumes; imply consent or scream refusal.
It can be premeditated, or borne of spur-of-the-moment neglect.
It can be, by comission, an unspoken truth, or by omission, a lie untold.
It flits by before one can react, or crawls, one exponentially elongating second after the other, an agonising eternity within which to lose oneself..
A double-edged sword of the keenest intent.
*****
You say it all... when you say nothing at all
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