Love doesn’t die
with a pompous declaration,
it dies in silence.

It dies the night
you don’t reach for the phone
to say good night,
the morning you hold back
your good news,
the moment you hear a song
and let it pass.

There is no warning
no fight
no broken glass
or scattered stuff
no shouting in the street;
just absence
and a cold indifference,
the quiet choice
to stop sharing
the small, ordinary pieces
that once held you together.

Love doesn’t end
with a formal goodbye,
it ends long before,
in moments so quiet
that you almost miss them.