Abbie's "Silence 7" compares two things that seem opposites: a dying star and a person overwhelmed by what they want to say. The opening lines point out the strange fact that a supernova is both a star's brightest moment and its death. All that brilliance comes at the end.
The speaker then turns to themselves, with a tentative "I guess." A soul holding "too much words" can also explode, and the result isn't noise but "an utter silence." The idea is that when feelings or thoughts pile up past a certain point, speech fails. Nothing comes out, or nothing adequate does.
The mood is quiet, a little sad, and strangely calm. There's a sense of being overfull and emptied at once. The slightly uneven grammar, such as "too much words," makes the voice feel unpolished and honest, like someone working out a private thought. The poem suggests that silence isn't always absence. Sometimes it's what's left after everything has been felt too intensely to say.