"i'm sorry. i'm unaware of why i am unable to fall in love with you," his whispers clash like razor blades upon bare flesh.

a life such as mine could only be stemming from the root of false accusations. his, however, a brain full of knowledge, yet not equipped to let it drain from his lips like water dancing along cool pavement, sliding into the depths of a sewer; sliding into the depths of my brain.

isn't it funny? aristotle once believed that the sun revolved around the earth despite the planet's elliptical movements in an orbicular orbit around its beating heart of fire? at the bottom of my soul I have the tiniest hope that some day you will build a contrasting conclusion about the depths of your emotions. but the sad and inevitable truth is, once that day has come where you have built up enough evidence, i might be long past gone.

i mean, people have found ways to map interstellar galaxies and travel at the speed of light to complete distant planets and yet you can't even go such a distance as to explain why your heart doesn't beat in the same intervals as my own.

your sentiment of emotion encapsulated within the larynx, pulsing a steady wall between conscious and unconscious knowingness.

oh, how i wish you would break me down with your words.