He was quiet. She was quiet. The silence was killing, for her, for him, for them. She wanted to cry, he wanted to scream. She wanted to hit him, he wanted to hold her. She wanted to ask why, he wanted to ask why not? But there was no space for words, they don't hold any importance now....
When they used to talk, the words used to flow. Nobody selected the words...they ultimately selected themselves to be part of their conversations, to be part of their relationship. Those touches, those subtle nuances, those cataclysmic highs and the heart-breaking lows of love will not be there, from today, from tomorrow, never, ever.
When they used to talk, words used to just facilitate their telepathic thoughts. Today...there was no pity nor sympathy between the words, just the empathy to try not to suspend their belief in love. Even if it requires suspension of their ego, utter disregard to the ubiquitous I-me-myself in their space, their lives, their belonging.
When they used to talk, words were just not alphabetical symbols carrying some significance. They were a substitute for oxygen in their life support system. Words gave meaning to what they felt inside, they could not say but experienced always. Words that decided their fate, words that decided their togetherness.
Yet today, there were no words between them. Just a screaming waft of silence, a screeching noise of emptiness. The words have taken a circuitous route to efficiently practice and effectively travel to the end of their journey together. Words that brought their souls together, words which tore their hearts apart are no more. Like a loaded gun, some wounded words shot dead their wordless evening.