When We Unravel

The feelings toward the end of a relationship

The end was not a single blow, but a slow, relentless bleed—a silence growing rooted between the things we used to need. Your voice grew sharp with absence, your hands forgot their place. I would search for warmth in your eyes, but all I found was a stranger's face. We died in little increments, in hours left unsaid, in nights where love lay motionless. A body turned into lead until there is nothing left but a hollow skin, a name I cannot speak. The end has settled in my chest, and whispers when I breathe.