There are many types of silence, and they all sound different.

There is the silence that follows the snick of the door closing on the last guest.

There is the silence of the woods muffled in snow.

There is the silence of a room where only fire burns.

There is the silence of a recently deserted playground, the empty swings eddying with the breeze.

There is the silence between one scream and the next.

There is the silence you are wearing now, a silence that is like a cloak, or a new hat.  It has bred a silence in me, a silence that is like an elevator where my thoughts are standing quietly, not looking at one another, waiting to see if you’ll be getting off at the next floor.