this has to end.

i can't take this anymore.  can't stand up underneath the weight of you.  can't get through a day without crying.  the sight of you damns me.  the thought of you destroys me. 

i can't do this anymore. 

i used to think i was strong.  i used to think i was, at the very least, capable of dealing, somehow, with most anything. 

now the sight of your winged shoulderblades shatters me.  i don't hear anything around me anymore, ears too attuned and focussed on the possibility of hearing someone say your name, of catching a whisper of your voice from across a room.  my every nerve is alight, aching for a brush of your robes against my hand, for the feel of your body.  my skin is so desperate for you it burns, and just the touch of my clothing on me is unending torment.

this has to end.

i'm condemned to utter misery when i'm not with you, but i'm not sure whether the crushing agony of your absence is worse than the fire that consumes me when you're there.  i'm not sure what hurts more, what would hurt more even if you loved me like i know you never will.  like i dream of waking and sleeping, like i yearn for.  even if you loved me, the way i love you, in that way i know i can't live without. 

even if you loved me;  and i know you never will.

this has to end.