Ended

Short prose 'verse' about a women contemplating the end of her marriage.

It was over. She knew that, yet she didn't want to acknowledge it. She closed her eyes and let the now cold water from the shower wash over her. She had been standing in the shower for far too long. For the water had grown cold long ago. Still, she stayed. To stave off the fear, the thought, the knowledge that he was gone and that it was finally over. To let it in would mean she would have to admit that it was all too true.

And she didn't want that.

But it was true. He had left just this morning. His bags packed. His goodbyes said. The sadness shared by both of them was real. No shouting, no ranting. Just clear and all too true sadness and guilt that they just couldn't make it work for either of them anymore. It just wasn't there for either of them after so long.

The rub of it all was that they still loved one another so very much. But the rest the rest was gone. The passion had been spent long ago. They had grown so very far apart. Gone different ways with their lives. Their careers. They barely knew one another any longer. He was a good man, a good father. She didn't hate him, couldn't hate him. Not ever. The tears started. She cried hard. Not wanting to let him go, knowing she had to for both their sakes.

It was over.

Ended.