We speak the same language but have different words for everything. Baffled, yet strangely accepting, because this gradual estrangement is so effortless.
At the beginning, the master articulator falls silent. When no words come, the frustration brews like something in the belly of the mountains, and only the tears speak, in sudden, torential spells, like summer rain.
I could not move you in any way.
And you? You complain that you could not help me, yet you tell me I should never have been waiting to be saved. You tell me I should learn, I should become complete in myself. You tell me I should mend, change, grow into something harder.
But you cannot will away a void, the depths of which have hollowed deeper over a period of 24 years, in spite of all your convictions about how it...how I aught to be.

Know that I never needed you to save me. I only wanted to be yours, just as I was.

I have no more illusions about my place in your life now.
So I give up trying
to make you smile
to engage your interest
to catch your eye
to communicate
to share

I give up
Believing you are mine
This evening last week.
I give up
thos feelings which turn something nostalgic
that your smell still awakens in me.
I give up
wanting to touch you
and become naturally drawn to the superficial warmth of complete strangers.
I give up
the heart ache
and give vent to hard, genuine laughter.

And momentarily, there is no meaning.