Prediction: The Cold Stone In The Chest

My Beloved -Her Name Harvester- announced that she was leaving with a voice only slightly more dedicated than it was to breath.

My Beloved -Her Name Kerf Straightener-was cutting cucumbers for a salad, and continued without the slightest recognition to the weight of what she had just uttered.
My Beloved -Her Name Weather Vane- knew the power of her words but had been moved beyond concern for the damage that they may cause.

I threw myself at her feet. I stare at her toes; there I could see in her posture that this had been something fully decided.
My Beloved -Her Name Severence Package- had already banished me from her heart and I would no longer be recognized there.

I felt dragged between two powerful beasts, the neglect of one and the extortion of the other.
I want this all noted for the record, though I make no excuses for my behavior. This happened.