The Last Click

The argument, a worn-out thing,

had finally stopped its painful sting.

You walked away, no glance, no word,

just footfalls on the floor I heard.

Then came the sound, so sharp and quick,

the front door's final, hollow click.

It wasn't loud, no slamming rage,

just turned a silent, empty page.

And in that quiet, heavy air,

a period landed, right there.

No turning back, no second guess,

just silence, and this emptiness.