You pick apart
the days we've shared
as is if they are cotton threads on a shirt,
analysing each moment
to see where we went wrong,

examining what you believe
to be the facts, when love
can't be understood by
facts.

What about the feelings
we shared? or the kisses?
do these things matter less
than a ten minute taxi ride
or a possible wrong turn
in the woods?

Why are you so cold?
so utterly distant from your heart?
as if it doesn't live in your own chest at all,
but in another body entirely,

maybe that is why I could never reach it
maybe that is why our relationship
will be eliminated to nothing,
after your deductions