The Giving Way

The air is thick with all the things unsaid,

I’m moving soft to leave you in the bed.

The hallway is a narrow, lightless throat,

I’m shivering inside my cotton coat.

I find the spot where the old joist has failed,

the floorboard where the rusted head was nailed.

It shifts beneath my foot, a sudden snap,

a dry bone breaking in a quiet trap.

The sound goes sharp against the plaster wall,

I freeze and wait to hear your breathing fall.