​When the end came
it was a whisper,
that  now
echoes in my soul.
Swirling around
an empty chamber,
amid regrets,
and loss of control.

When the end came
it was a thief
that stole
my raison d’être
Leaving only impressions
that won’t allow me
to forget her.

When the end came
it was an absence
my hands without
the one they ached
to touch.
My eyes searching
constantly
for the love they
came to need so much.

When the end came
it was a whisper
that slowly recedes
into silence.
And my heart beats
a little slower each day
trauma from a passive
violence.

M. Zane McClellan

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