The air is thick like a storm waiting

The air is thick, like a storm waiting,

words sit trapped, fluttering in heavy breath.

We share the same space, yet light feels fading,

this silence, a gulf that pulls, like a depth.

Ticking clock on the wall counts our remorse,

each second stretches, a thread left undone,

a wide river flows between us, of course,

echoes of laughter now silenced, outshone.

Eyes flicker, seeking safe harbors to shore,

but there’s no bridge, just the weight of the night,

our unsaid apologies weigh on the floor,

so I sit still, wondering who lost the fight.