I wrote this quickly and am not ashamed to admit it’s quite desperately in need of an edit, but sometimes things just spew forth and I think I will leave it. I ache reading it.


Are we really having this conversation here?


I worry because I don’t think we are communicating any more.

Here? Where we are doesn’t matter, but who we are does.

It’s like you don’t understand me, or

You don’t want to, and

I know that, yes,

It’s a tough conversation to have,


I worry that you want to avoid it, not

Because you don’t agree with me, but

Because you are scared.

Well, me too.


I don’t understand. I don’t. I don’t get it. Why?


I worry when you say that.

We used to see eye to eye on all things at all times

And now you can’t see that


Things become comfortable, too

Comfortable, and without them we are

Vulnerable, too vulnerable, so we stay put, remain

Say it’s wonderful, all wonderful,

Yet underneath, in honesty

We hate these chains. I worry because I know that this,

What this has become

Isn’t good, isn’t right

But neither of us are trying to fight

So I worry because that means you know it isn’t working too


You pretend it is.

We both do.


I thought we were great together. Why are you doing this?


Stop crying, this is hard enough. And stop lying,

That is more than enough – you know it isn’t the same,

I’m not insane,

And you know it’s not just me to blame


I believe that, and so do you. I know you well, remember?

You can play the victim if that fits your system


I worry you’re fooling yourself, else

Why use the past tense? We “were” great, not we “are” – ?

You needn’t look far to see

We both agree.


Is this really happening? After everything?



There’s nothing left to salvage here, and that is shit to say aloud, so

I’m sorry, but you know it’s true


You needn’t be sorry too

Because, look, you’re already giving yourself an “after”, and

Hey, there’s still life and years and love and laughter

We’ll both make it

But apart.

I know we both want to restart –



Are you really doing this to me?


Of course I’m not.

The words are too hard, and the prospects so bleak,

And the past too strong, and my strength so weak

There’s no way I could say these words aloud.



I worry because the longer we pretend, the harder the end

And now I’m faking our breaking, playing it out


And again

And every time we reach the same part,

I back out.


I worry because I don’t think we are communicating any more

I worry because I’m too scared to admit the truth

Too ashamed to admit

It’s my fault.


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