There was a stretched silence–a prolonged pain.

There was a cold hand and a frozen treatment.

I can’t clutch his eyes as he’s in desperation to shun mine.

There was a sluggish movement of time from an anguish of detachment–both in thirst for separation.

He waited for me to start saying something–to begin the closure while I waited for him to end the silence, the unspoken rejection and the selfishness in both intense desires of freedom and the pain of acknowledging the absence of love.

We seated there for the longest time, both tightly hushed.

He tried not to hurt me first but he didn’t see the thousand dying tortures happening inside me then finally, I started the end. “So I guess this is it.”

Holding back the tears as he gave me that one reluctant smile and I knew right from that moment that it’ll be the last time that i’ll be seeing it.

by: Mica Meñez