"I'm past the point of caring"
He said it so casually
The way you'd ask what's for dinner
Not really caring for the response

"I know. You have been for a long time," I said, equally as casual

Each witnessing, for the last however-long, the slow decay of our love

Personally, I mourn for us
Every day

The kind of mourning that hits between thoughts while folding laundry or sipping tea

I won't cry for us, I'm past that now
Not past caring, I may never be
Just this side of broken
Where I know what's coming but I'm prepared
Bracing myself for so long