The Break

And the ache is sudden,

not sharp, not clean,

but heavy—

like a rope pulled too tight

inside the ribs.

The room is the same,

your hand still near mine,

but distance hums beneath the skin,

a low tremor I cannot name.

My chest folds inward,

as if the air itself

is thinning,

as if every breath

arrives already broken.

I don’t yet know

what ending waits,

only that something inside

is cracking—

slow,

relentless,

the soundless splinter

of a heart

still pretending

it hasn’t heard.