The silence is the worst part.

Silence after the storm, when all is eerie quiet
and you wonder if it would be too cliché
to wander out and survey the damage, murmuring platitudes
to nameless neighbors

Silence in the night, as you lay awake
and the shock of a train whistle like a dying candle
echoing in your head long after
the train has gone

Silence when you ask them if everything feels wrong
and your breath won’t come in the hour-long seconds
before they answer you, it does
the world is falling apart

Realizing that I loved you, but was not
in love with you, was the worst
of all heartbreaks.