Sometimes it becomes dark before you realise. It’s cold. It’s grey. There’s work. You are both sick. There’s children to attend to. He’s not a talker. And sometimes you don’t feel like talking anyway….
I cross the bridge. I cross the river. Hooded against the rain from the sky. Hooded against the insults from inside my head. And love is not enough.
Where is the comfort of words? Where is the comfort of your words? But there are no words. Not between us. Anymore. And love is not enough.
Don’t touch my skin, without words. I will feel nothing. I’ll tear at my own flesh. And start it all again. Because love is not enough.