The Kindest Death (Poem)

No doors were slammed, no voices raised,

just coffee cups and practiced praise.

A kiss at night, a nod by day—

The quiet way love fades away.

They smiled like actors on repeat,

love tucked beneath a well-made sheet.

They never fought, they never cried—

They only drifted, side by side.

No bruising words, no cruel goodbyes,

Just glances that forgot the why.

They touched like ghosts with borrowed hands,

still moving through each day’s demands.

The walls were clean, the table set,

But underneath, unmet regret.

A thousand things they never said

lay folded near the unshared bed.

She missed being missed, not seen.

He missed the space where she had been.

But still, they smiled and turned away,

believing love could last that way.

One night she asked, beneath the fan,

“Do you think we’re happy?”—just like that.

He faced the wall. The silence grew.

And in that hush, she finally knew.

Some love burns out in rage or theft—

But

theirs was slow.

The kindest death.