I don't want to talk. I don't want to assemble words into sentences full of empty promises. I don't want to waste my breath uttering words that have no meaning, no purpose, no power, no influence. I'm done talking. I'm sick and tired of attempting to congregate words to efficiently express my feelings to you. It's pointless and so effortful. It's draining and debilitating my being. I've left myself so vulnerable, open, and naked. It hasn't gotten me anywhere. I'm still here, you're still over there, and there are pieces of my heart scattered all over these hardwood floors. It hurts, it's torturous, and tormenting. It consumes my mind through out the day and keeps me up all night. It has me writing messages in bottles I've drank down to keep the thoughts of you away. My pen is all out of ink, darling. Now it's best that I admire you from a far..... so I will.
