A laugh, a tear—  
what do we do with this cold world?  
She asks for so little,  
yet the air thickens with unspoken anger,  
a toll from a long week,  
severe and heavy,  
as if life itself demands a final request.  

Promises of sweet slumber,  
the kind that cradles the soul,  
shattered by lingering conversations,  
each word a delicate thread,  
pulled taut by a plea that feels whimsical.  
Fear, that insidious creature,  
wraps its tendrils around her heart,  
craving comfort,  
a whisper of security amid chaos.  

Why weave such doubts into the fabric of love?  
Why not simply exist,  
free from the weight of dominance?  
Old-fashioned beliefs linger like ghosts,  
it was merely a treat,  
a gesture of affection—  
can't you see?  

Letting go feels like breathing underwater,  
the pressure rising,  
and still, I reach out,  
a decorated veteran of this emotional war.  
A gift, tenderly offered,  
but you chose to turn away,  
clouding the tender moments  
that could burst forth with joy.  

I’m sorry for this weight,  
for the burden you perceive,  
but all I seek is connection,  
even as the world spins cold  
without you beside me.