Drift

We didn’t break.

There was no loud goodbye,

no slammed door,

no final breath of rage.

Just space widening like a tide

we forgot to swim against.

You still smiled,

but not the same way.

Your words still came, but later,

and lighter.

Like you were learning

how to say less of me. 

I reached across the distance

with laughter, with softness,

with the version of me you used to crave.

But you held your silence like a shield;

and I, not knowing where it hurt,

could not press gently enough.

Now we are two familiar strangers,

still shaped by each other,

but fading from the frame.

And the saddest part is;

no one was cruel.

We just stopped arriving 

at the same time. 

Pritha Krishna