Cracks in the Foundation

At the table tonight, a silence so dense,

like shadows drawn close, I feel the suspense.

My father sighs deeply, glances at her phone,

while words linger still, heavy, alone.

The creased napkin left, on the edge of the plate,

speaks volumes of stories that silence can create.

The dinner grows colder, like their hearts feel tight,

as warmth turns to ice in the failing light.

I see their masks slip, and it all becomes clear,

the laughter once shared has vanished in fear.

In the cracks of their foundation, I sense the despair,

that love once so vibrant, now gasps for air.