MargenSilence has an accent. Yours fell to the left, like rain on old windows.
There are silences that are doors and silences that are walls with a picture hung on them so you will not notice the damp.
I learned to read them the way you read a language without vowels: guessing, trembling, apologising in advance.
The last one you left me I still have not translated. I keep it here, between my ribs, like a foreign word that means far too many things and none of them any use to me.
Perhaps it meant come back. Perhaps it meant go away. The two are written the same when nobody says them out loud.