So what does matter to you?

When you turn away from me with that look on your face, my chest is sent reeling and it squeezes me shut.

The air is thin and I feel trapped in an open space, exposed for all those who'd care to glance my way. Every step takes more air from my lungs, hard and heavy stones placed in a fragile place. I want to reach out and stop you, to tell you I'm sorry for what I said or what I did...whatever I did I'm so fucking sorry for! I'm sorry for being who I am! I'm sorry for what you're becoming! And I'm just so fucking sorry for caring so much about you I find it hard not to break in half!

Just ask the wrong question, take a wrong step and you shut down and shut me out. I can beg and plead and cry on my fucking knees and it couldn't faze you. You can't-or won't- speak up, share with me anything that goes on in your head, every thought shadowed from me, if not for my comfort then for your own damn well-being. But not even that seems to mean anything to you.

I want to be strong and carry the pain as though I haven't noticed but I feel weak in the knees and so, so very sick I think I'll never eat again. Sleeping becomes a hazardous chore, I fear one night I may just not wake up due to the exhaustion in me. My body, my mind, my soul can only take so much negligence and I just can't ignore them much longer. The only fucking thing I don't have to worry about being destroyed in the process is what I've already given to you- wholly and fully with no regrets. That, if only that, I will you to keep. If it came back to me, it'd fall to pieces before my hands even touched it and shatter along my feet and graze my skin in cold, sharp agony. I would die before I became whole again.

What can I do to motivate you? What can I say to get your heart back and into you? Tell me what the hell has begun to change in you, what's formed this black hole around you that sucks up all the sensitivity and feeling.

Because I'm beginning to think I'm not enough for you.