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.
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