And so, what now?
The room lingers
waiting for something
(anything)
to happen.

A silent echo
endlessly reverberating.
A sound left to linger
like that particular snap
of a bone cracking in two.

....But this is so much more painful.
There's a scar on my arm
from when they drilled a titanium plate
into that broken bone.

You let the silence speak for you
(as it tends to do)
Quiet tears convene on the bedsheets.

Oh, please say something.
Say that you will be okay.
Tell me that you are not broken.

I do not think that I am worth breaking from.
I do not think that I am worth crying over.
I do not think that I am a monster
but that is up for you to decide.

Oh, love, please say something.
Say something.
(Anything.)

That silent echo
that endless reverberation.
... I can feel your heart
snapping in two.

But I am no surgeon.

No, I am that dying oak tree
in your front yard.
You climbed it higher and higher
unaware of my emptiness under the bark.
You climbed me higher and higher
happier and happier.

But I snapped under the increasing weight of your love
and watched as you fell from me.
You snapped in two and landed
on these bedsheets
where you can't stop crying.

Love, say something.
(Anything.)