Your hands are empty

You looked at me like the words were hiding behind your teeth, too scared to fall out wrong. And I waited, like silence was a bridge you might finally dare to cross. You held my hand, but your grip said goodbye long before your mouth ever did. I wasn’t asking for forever. I was just asking if I still meant something. But you looked away, and said nothing, as if that silence wasn’t the loudest kind of no you could have whispered. So I nodded, as if that silence didn’t split me down the middle. I let go. And somehow, you didn’t even notice your hand was empty.