The Breaking Point

"I'm sorry."

So over used. So under-expressed. I can't help but breath a little less every time. This hurts. I am left. Again and again. You say you continue to stay, but then you walk away. You say you never forget me, but here I am in this bed alone. Here I lay, alone, alone, alone. My echo is the only sound I can hear, the reflection in the mirror, an empty hand, the only thing I can see. My own warmth, all left to grow cold. Where did you go? How can you put me on the bottom of the pile? Put everything, everything, above me. You rest it all on my shoulders? It weighs me down, making me small, almost nothing to you at all. You give me no excuse, no reason, just a shake of your head, a squeeze of my hand. Don't thank me for understanding, thank me for waiting. For waiting on the edge of my seat for everything I receive from you. I live, falling faster and faster, more and more freely in love with you, and I watch as you smile my way, but walk right past. I am left pushed away, why? Why do you make me feel this way? You claim you need to work on these things, but what happened to stepping up? What happened to not try, do? By God, the greatest lesson I have learned from you is to never be content failing, to always do, never try, just succeed. Do nothing less than it all. Where is your response, where is your change, your movement to new and leaving of old? I ask nothing more than what you ask of me. I step up, I stand when I fall, I run when it hurts.

And "I'm sorry", fails.
"I'm sorry" doesn't count anymore, for anything.

Break the wall, or break down.