We dwelt beneath a single roof,
bound as husband and wife.
Yet slowly, the currents pulled us apart,
two vessels adrift without anchors.
All that tethered us was breath—
shared air in aching lungs,
and water that cooled our thirst
when silence scorched our tongues.
Even our words withered,
like fields abandoned to the sun.
Within those walls, sorrow grew,
its roots pressing deeper each day.
We longed for healing,
for wounds to close before they bled.
So we parted, whispering farewells.
She found her joy, and I found mine.
Sometimes love’s truest gift
is the grace to let go.
