You do not read me like you use to. You notice a past self, your head now sits up right, you struggle, trying to hold that last piece and yet, I do not blame you.
The will of trying darkens. Silently, I notice a slow burn, your aura shift to others, reactions I once felt are no longer, for now, that energy is sourced else where.
Words now ricochet rather than melt.
I am, simply, heard.
I say it again, I do not blame you.