Make this easier.
Tell me you notice how the silence
has become filthy, awkward, resentful.
Your skin feels foreign.
You are bringing out a side of me
that I never thought could be unsure of you.

I am sorry for letting the days slip through my grasp
and fall to an uncertain floor,
a surface that both of us may not have the space
to stand on together anymore.

There was once a foundation here,
but it eroded before we knew it needed to be mended.


The more I prolong our farewell,
the more it contorts my deepest fantasies
of what love should be.

I wish I could end us with more dignity,
a deserved sense of finality,
but the heart has more control over my dreams
than this harsh reality could ever wish to have.

Missing you in my sleep is the only way
to keep the potential of you alive.