there is no thief to blame who has
stolen the warmth from our kisses;
departure has been gradual,
right before our eyes –
we drew the line and silently
watched it fall,
by degrees. by days.
you have ripped what was yours,
what i thought was mine,
from within me. and returned it. to yourself.
did it before our hearts were still intact,
before resentment crept itself into the crevices of what was left behind.
did it before they were choked by the fact
what we both built
you destroyed by a single wave of a hand.