you stood there like an old, frozen statue,
attempting to regain its glory,
while the dust begins to pile up on your body,
and viewers pass by your cold facade,
and move onto another, more beautiful,
more stable, more clean than your's ever was.
you stood there and i couldn't tell if
you wanted to talk, because
talking meant choosing and carefully forming
words to escape your mouth
and then once the words left your mouth,
they would remain a faint whisper,
chilling through my hollow soul,
and with that whisper,
you would begin to cry
like your parents did when they fought,
and the ones before.
so you didn't say anything.
the silence lingered of words that were meant to be said
but couldn't be said
because if they were said
nothing would come out,
except feelings of the nothingness,
emptiness, and lostness,
knowing that you lost the most crucial
piece of your ethereal presence and being, that
you would never be able to get back.
