Running out of air

Excuse after excuse; can't he see it isn't what she needs, isn't the thing she craves from him? Everyone was invited - I gave a note - "I never got it," she replies simply, sharply, the words bitten out between her teeth. "Maybe if you told me in person. But I am sorry I did not come." If she could apologize for everything, could take it back and repair it all- if only she thought it would matter, she would. I am sorry that you were in that position. I am sorry that I snapped. I am sorry that this space exists between us, a space I do not know how to bridge, a space you seem to only want to widen. She listens to him speak in silence, anger still rippling through her skin, an anger that needs no fuel but blood and too many years of loneliness, too much time spent without a guide in the darkest recesses of her insecurities. What has she done to deserve this, except everything, every mistake? And what mistake has she made this time - how has she been the one to betray, what has she done, what has she done? "Why?" she asks, her voice tight with pain, her muscles contracting in her jaw. "Why are you angry with me? You never came to see me. You never spoke to me, at the Trials. You've made it clear that I've hurt you somehow, but you won't tell me what I did. What did I do?" a m a l i a You were young and you'd stare With a reverence unimpaired Searching in your dark eyes to find the stars already there