It boils in his chest, burns his throat,
Blurs his sight; there's no way to cope.
I've said goodbye many times,
Each time the fire clouds his eyes.

I'm never afraid, my love is to blame.
It keeps me grounded, not running away.

"He doesn't mean it." I tell myself,
My family, and friends; not asking for help.

In the end he says, "Sorry," at least in my mind.
I imagine it so, each time it rewinds.

I am forever silent in my time of strife,
My skin growing cold, pale, and white.