extinguished.

It's gone. The fire, the passion. You hold none of that in my heart any longer. I can't tell you why. I don't even know. The love I have now if the love you keep for a friend, someone who needs help. You go in to kiss me and I am repulsed. The fire is gone and it's not coming back.

How do I tell you your love is unrequited? I can't explain how it happened, this always happens.
Am I defective?
No, you just aren't the one.

weakness.

I made a mistake and now I'm paying for it. I sit on the edge of your bed. You're concerned, I'm not responding.  Tears brim at the edge of my eyes, that hesitation before they spill over and down my cold cheek. "Is it one of those days?" you ask. I barely nod, I can't tell you anything.

At home alone. I try to do the mundane tasks. Grab the handle of the fridge and grief knocks me to my knees. I hold on for support and wait till it passes. My muscles and limbs ignore me when I command. My hands go limp and I wait and wait and sink lower into the dark.

I've got to get out.
Get out.
Out.