...and quiet

No letters now to stain the dusk with ache,
No ink to spill the secrets we won’t say,
No whispered storms our worn-out words could make,
No paper bridge to span the silent grey.
No tangled truths behind a careful joke,
No echo in the pause that used to burn,
No rhythm left in lines we never spoke,
No shared unrest to weigh on each return.
No hand to hold through distance we outgrew,
No mirror left that ever felt like you.