I fall to the floor in hopes that you find me there. The shower is running over me and masking my tears. I have so much to say but don’t have the words to say it. I thought if I touched you you would feel my pain and regret. But you rolled over, so cold.
It’s amazing that I’m walking. I feel paralyzed by my heart. I’m consumed with jealousy and its lead me nowhere good. The addict in me is screaming, but I don’t have a voice to yell.
I crumble when you leave. I watch you walk away and get into the car. I don’t want this to carry on. I want to cry in your arms and tell you that I’m fucked up and you’ll see that glimmer in my eyes and know the love is still there. Robotic Kisses; silence. Even a hot cup of coffee won’t break the tension and bring you back to me.
“I love you,” you say as walk by looking to the ground. Ear buds plug up your soul from hearing my silent pleas. A couple of zombie addicts, tossing and turning. I want to make it ok again. I miss you. But my breath falls short of anything productive. So I sit and cry.
My orange chair of comfort gives me small hope. The sign above says “let’s dare to be ourselves, for we do that better than anyone else.” But I don’t want to be me. Cause I’m a mess, in love, who doesn’t know how to love. I’m an addict in recovery, trapped in her isolation. I’m a sleep deprived sales man who has to hide and fake a smile. Fake it till you make it. Maybe that’s why I crumble. Crumble inside these walls of fear. I tried to let you in, but your back was all I got. This foundation is crumbling under us. The house we built on love is busted. I want to seal the cracks. I want to make it brand new, but all I see is your back, walking away. And I crumble.