My Lasting Minutes

No angry words, no slammed front door,
Just distance growing ever more.
A bed once warm grew cold instead,
With silent miles across one bed.

A touch withheld, a vacant stare,
Love measured out with careful care.
Not out of hate, nor open spite,
But quiet audit every night.

Passion fades where hearts divide;
Resentment sleeps on either side.
For intimacy was never meant
To be a tool of punishment.

The deepest ache is not the flame,
But longing whispered without name.
Two vows grow thin when love is fed
By everything… except the bed.