Words. Words. Words.

Words. Words. Words.

They destroy, they heal. In their absence is a void deeper than all the words ever spoken, written, and read.

There were always words. Ours.
At first, they healed—delicate and real.
Then, mine cracked—sudden and sharp.

Oh, words. Now a few.
Silence creeps in—a pause, a delay, a missed message, a quiet evening.

Oh, words. Fading.
Silence settles where they used to be.

Oh, words.
Words are—
Gone.

Oh, and we
We are–
Alone.