Stained and tainted

My finger tips carefully held the pictures, memories flashed. Sounds of them were heard as if they were in distance.I cried, gripping the photos in my hands, throwing them to the floor. Contorted, a funny word to describe their state of being.

I was lacking something.

There was a breach between my wife and I. Nothing was the same. Silence was our only friend as we were around. A marriage no more.