It seems so long ago that we loved. Your eyes would not meet mine and your caress – though you did caress – was brief, token, meaningless.
Your absence now, both physically and emotionally, hurts. The brevity of this may give you some idea of how hard it is to write...the ineloquence a clue as to the chaos you have provoked within. Words may never fail, but the user often does – and what am I, but the user?
Each time you push me away, every instance of too-late hesitation, all your careless words and unconcealed regret... You burn me. I hurt, and you do not even look long or hard enough to see.
You sit in silent musing, and I cry. And the tears are just as quiet.
