In the hem and haw     of hesitation,
a lull of cloud hangs     low and lingering.

Curious clusters     of uncurled tendrils
traverse the trellis,     touched to feel their way.

Burnt ochre, brittle     and blackened since bloom.
In death's repose, the     roses are refined.

Decaying by the     cove, a crowd of leaves,
content and concealed     in traps of comfort.

The branches quiver,     clinging to cold roots.
Strength surfaces from     the sinuous deep.

Is this
How we
End?
Does our
Relationship
Crumble
in the
Silence
of no
Words?

Do we
let our
Dyad
Breathe its
last breath
alone
in the
Night of
Unspoken
Thoughts?

Do we
Let our
special
Connection
Break apart
in a
Noiseless
Dirge?

Is this
How we
End?
No words-
Only the
Unspoken
Goodbyes
in the
Void of
Unshared
Thoughts
and wants?

Do we
Die
in the
Stillness of
Nothing
Spoken and
Dreams
Broken?

Is
This
How we
End?