The Unbecoming

Why the silence, why the chill Why the gritty gap between Have these words cut I would have pleaded But no such instance of hearts acquainted Nor bitter intermittent of sweet nothing smiles The door swings open with unbecoming goodbye Bisporadic spheres my familiar world passes by And still I wonder Why the cold, why the silence If that is it If that is how things are made (or manifested) to be Perfectly - then so be it I’ll move on No worries, no loss Just another prophesised tragedy We’ll walk our different paths Estranged it may be, but that is the cost Pricked; you bleed...