Burning

I am confused daily by the amount of pain and anger that comes with each dose of love. I cannot comprehend when it got so messy and tangled, or when the words "I love you" quit being enough. I've been catching myself in the shower, still foggy with the dreams from the night before, sobbing because my reality is not what I want it to be.

The most utterly terrifying aspect of it, really, is that I cannot pinpoint where my unhappiness stems. There is not one deed, or lack thereof, that makes me feel as though we are falling apart. The more I think upon this state of melancholy and despair, the more futile and sluggish it make my emotions feel. I can say I am giving my all. I can say that you are doing enough.

Where is the gap? I feel achingly hollow, and barren, and distant. I cannot keep your attention, and I stopped caring why. I have driven myself out, I have stretched myself thin.

Tell me you want me. Show me that you'd cross the ocean and take me back even when I had faltered. Like I have for you. Shake me and kiss me, and scream that you need me. I want to see it written on your face and stinging in your eyes. I want you to die without me. I want the very thought of my absence to make you out of breath and as hollow as me.

These were the things I felt for you, before I realized you didn't feel them for me. These are the ghosts that haunt me. I am in love with you, oh so in love with you, but not the way you are in love with me. You are my conviction, my religion, the fucking blood in my veins.

And I am a convenience, a nicety, someone you could do just as well with or without.

I can feel my passions seep from my soul, I'm turning gray in your midst. I can't turn away, you're the best that I'll get. I just wish that you were as set ablaze as I have been since the moment we met.