The Death

Goodbye for good but please don't go.

It's as if you can hear a pin drop,

echo mercilessly through the thick,

paralyzing tension.

The silence screams its vile opinions;

unforgiving and relentless.

You can look, but won't see anything

but the hard exterior of the goodbye.

Gripping wildly to nothing

with deathly white knuckles,

gasping for the air being squeezed

out of your lungs,

by the rough hands of the words

you have not spoken.

Your struggle eerily quiet,

against the snap

of your heart.