Impasse.

  What do you do when you are finished?  Liking saying goodbye to an old friend, you embark on the journey alone and try to remember all the good times that you once had and how it-they-changed you as a person.  You try to admit that it might not be time to leave, but every time you start to step towards the door you feel a bit more free and your heart (which hasn't sung in years) begins to jump up and down like a child being picked for a team.  Sometimes, you can't identify with the person that you have become now.  This person so willing to put up with so much and receive so little in return.  It's best that this ended years ago, but it's been dragged out to bloody hell and there is nothing that you can do now to return to those innocent and ancient times.  Keep feeding the monster is what you say.  Keeping telling the monster that there are virgins coming to sacrifice, when all you have climbing that lonely hill is a whisper of wind and a pile of dirt.  There is nothing more sad than not being able to face you and tell you the truth.  Selfish hands that walk the beaten path filled with hot coals that blaze against the cold ground.  You are the smoke that lingers, that I wipe away with my raw hands.  You are the cold and distant relative that I hate seeing and only spend time with out of kindness.  It is true that in my doubt, I have found nothing left.  There is only this space between us and the unending Earth, which rotates and conjures up thoughts of fire and ice and meaningless notions of what defines love.  I created this silence because I didn't want to talk anymore and although it went away for a time being-I knew that it would come back because I don't want you anymore.