How can I sustain both sides of our love? You feel nothing. I feel everything. I feel it all. How can we be together when you are nowhere? I've always fallen for you. I'm falling deep into the helpless dark. I jumped down, searching for you. I was planning to pull you up, but it's too sharp a climb. We both need both hands. I'm trying to talk you out of it; now realizing that you have to want to save yourself is heartbreaking. You haven't the strength to make your own way—how could you possibly support me as well? I need to be adored. I need to be loved entirely so I can be filled back up with all I give in kind. Instead, I'm slowly sinking and I don't know how to get us together.
I ought to stop trying to love you better. It's not the answer, despite my attempts. I have so little to give in proportion to what could possibly quench you. I am pouring myself into your scorched aridness. I'm gushing over you. My showers of affection fall on your parched landscape, drying so quickly I cannot tell if they sink in, or simply evaporate into nothingness. What does it matter? My love won’t save you. While you cannot feel a thing, I am drowning in your desert.
Originally written April 2014 I’m reeling at my losses. They are what I’ve
known my entire life. They stand, point to point, marking each moment I’ve
become more alone. Oft times when I open up to someone they eventually close me
down. Now many of my closest friends are people I hardly know. One has to
start somewhere it seems. All the starting is disheartening when it will
only lead to ending again. I’m frayed and I’m wary. Still, I feel the
impulse to plug myself fully into loving others. Despite this, I can't
seem to muster the energy required to trust again. My bleeding heart has a
faded pulse. I am drained. Won’t someone please, please, please recharge