How do you tell someone
you no longer enjoy their company
without sounding cruel?

How do you explain
that nothing dramatic happened…
there’s no fault to throw,
just a slow erosion,
like water wearing down stone
until even kindness
feels too heavy?

And isn’t that its own grief?
To mourn a living thing
that did not shatter…
only thinned,
thread by thread,
until love,
or partnership,
or friendship,
or whatever holy name
we once gave it,
felt more like obligation
than warmth.

Some things do not break.
They simply stop singing.

And one day you realize
you have been mourning the silence
longer than the song.