Losing you

I talked to you tonight.  On the phone.  It was a mistake.

You  make noises like you have listened to me.

You pretend to know that what you are doing makes no sense.  But I don’t think you see it.

You fake being rational.

I feel now like you are lost to me.  Perhaps beyond the point of no return.  Probably.

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My heart yearns for you.  But I don’t think you exist any longer.  There is only a sad shell.

I act desperate.  Begging you to come home.  Telling you everything that I would do differently.  Hoping that some kernel of what I say will germinate in your brain.  Thinking then that it has, and will take fruit.  But my optimism is foolish.  Wishing that you could see me.  But I wonder if you have only ever seen yourself.

You say that you may go to counselling.  That would be a step at least.  But you won’t say that you’ll avoid drastic decisions.

I think that I may hate you soon.   I didn’t want it to come to that.  But you are broken.  A small broken thing.  And while we tolerate broken things hanging around for a while, soon we will want to be rid of them.

Perhaps that will happen and I will become indifferent to you.

But for now there is only pain, hunger, crying, and a sense that there is no beauty in the world.

You said you felt empty.  You have made me empty.

You needn’t worry.  I shan’t be calling again.

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