There's a glass on the edge of the table, it's sweating bullets and they're dropping to the kitchen floor. I'm saying, "I don't know if I can do this anymore,  you never listen to me" and you're laughing to yourself about something irrelevant. You're singing to a song that isn't even playing, you're making notes in your head of what shape the clouds are outside our kitchen window. I'm saying, "This isn't what I ever wanted for us" and you're still not listening. I'm begging, "Would you please listen to me? Just this once" and you're still not clued in. You ask what's for lunch and then are confused by the look of extreme hurt on my face. I repeat myself, "I don't know if I can do this. I'm sorry." and you're on your knees. Sobbing. Apologizing for becoming this man, the man even you didn't know you were capable of. You're asking where this went wrong, what you can do to fix this, and I'm throwing my arms in the air. "I don't know what to tell you" I said. You're begging for me not to give up on you, telling me that you can become the person that I fell in love with. "Calm down, calm down, okay." I say, swearing I won't give up on you just yet. You wipe the tears off your cheeks, pick yourself off the floor, grab me by the waist and smile. "Please move that glass, it's going to fall."