In the silence of your absence,
A new pain takes its place,
Not of words or actions cruel,
But of the empty space.
No harsh words spoken,
No blame or accusations,
Just the quiet drift apart,
The loss of conversations.
A smile that never reaches,
Eyes that do not see,
The slow fade of connection,
The ghost of what could be.
It\'s in the little things,
A touch that never lands,
The coldness in the air,
When you pull away your hands.
It\'s not a wound that\'s bleeding,
But a heart that feels the strain,
Of love that\'s slowly dying,
Of the growing, aching pain.
It\'s another way of hurting,
This silence that\'s so loud,
The loneliness in company,
The feeling of a shroud.
No tears, no angry outburst,
Just the quiet, creeping fear,
That what we had is over,
And you\'re no longer here.