Is There Hope

Sometimes, I wonder if our fights Are more than just a clash of minds. If the echoes of our raised voices Hold weight far heavier than we admit. The words we throw, sharp, reckless, Land like daggers, unseen but felt. Tears sting eyes that never meet, Swallowed back behind fragile pride. Screens flicker with capitalised anger, Each message another step away. Are we fighting to fix what’s broken, Or proving it was never whole? I trace the silence between replies, A vast, empty space once filled with laughter. Do you hesitate before you type, Or do the words come easy now? I wonder, are we arguing Because there’s still something worth saving? Or do we fight like a house on fire, Not to rebuild, but to watch it burn? I reach for you in words unsent, In apologies buried beneath resentment. Is there hope in the wreckage? A thread of light we’ve yet to weave? Or have you already let go, Left behind a future we never got to dream?