‘Not tonight,’ I whisper

The ‘not tonights’ now, an invisible wall betwixt our beds

You shrug and lie on your side

I stare at your back and another fitful night passes

In the mornings, we go through the motions

Muttered exchanges, packed meals, eyes carefully contained

An absent-minded peck on my cheek and you are gone

I sigh as the house envelopes me in its silence

I resign to another long day of boredom

When did the silence begin?

Do we ever know?

When does the storm break?

Does it begin with rumbling clouds or thunderclaps?

Or does it begin rather innocuously at sea?

Like the time you forgot our anniversary,

Found happiness in your friends’ company,

Replaced evening walks with matches on TV,

Took decisions without consulting me…

The silence crept up slowly like a summer evening

When you began to hate my cooking,

When every encounter had us arguing.

Love is like a skein of loosely woven yarn

Every tug breaks a thread and before long

The fabric frays and is too damaged to darn.

My phone screen lights up

'I think we need to talk. I’ll come home early.'

Your message reads.

My heart fills up with dread.