Silence

It is loud.

She left.

She moved out.

She took our cat.

She's gone.

I'm here, free from her.

Free from the noise.

Now I can relax.

Peace and quiet.

No more arguments.

No more yelling.

No more of her blatant cheating filling the halls as I sit at my desk working.

No more pounding music, or loud poorly sung showers.

No more unhelpful help with the dishes.

No more awkward conversations before bed.

No more audio books while she sleeps.

No more soft snoring, or mumbled nightmares.

No more hugs as I wake her up.

No more heartbeats that slow as I hold her close.

No more quiet silence as we both read things that are completely different while she sits in my lap.

No more silence.

It's so loud.

This silence, it's deafening.

I hear every missing breath.

Quiet toe taps.

Even the screams and arguing.

And even the heart wrenching sounds of her and another woman in her bedroom.

There is finally silence.

But it seems, even in silence.

It's loud.