I watch the words slowly, silently shatter across the floor.
Yet the silence is so loud it deafens me.
What is the price of words?
Are they so cheap that we fling them around
Not caring whose heart a shard might end up piercing?
I thought we were friends.
I thought a lot of things.
You made me think them.
But now, I watch quietly as the dust is settling.
And it seems very obvious, my dear,
That your words are hollow and empty.