Words fail me. Words heal me. I want to have words with you. But my words are weary.
Weary of repeating myself. Weary of reminding you that I should be the center of your existence. Not forever, but maybe just for now.
Weary of believing in grand gestures and being pacified by sweet nothings. Weary of having faith that you’ll return to me the way you came.
Weary of being the only one making sacrifices. Weary of watching you silently fight for a life independent of me.
Weary of forgiving the same actions. Weary of broken promises.
Most of all, Weary of being lonely. Weary of being at the front lines of this battlefield, alone. Weary of protecting you.
Words fail me. I want to have words with you. But fuck, I am so tired.