This will be my final poem to you,
to exit, the door that I walked though;
too long, for nothing, I did stay,
far ago, the words I did not say.

You said I was the love of your life,
and consented to become my wife;
but way too far apart we grew,
and out the window, our love flew.

You stopped loving me, don't know why,
I never felt the change, or heard you cry;
it was like a bolt out of the blue,
I was clueless, but you always knew.

Time doesn't matter when love dies,
sometimes, no long and anguished cries;
just a silence that slithers in one day,
just a silence, that does not go away.

Then suddenly the union splits in two,
from troubled times that did accrue;
it's with regret, I voice we seldom tried,
the day you told me that your love died.