Isolating the variable

What is this division among us?
It couldn’t possibly be love creating this separation
I step out of myself to look at this disaster
how comfortable have we become to accept this illusion?
Convincing ourselves that somewhere in the midst of this tragedy is happiness.
Out of this bondage only leaves room for desertion
Can’t even contemplate leaving, my feet don’t even know the direction to walk away
Disembodied comfort is the pleasurable pain that allows one to stay
Does he even find contentment in the measure that is me anymore, or is he just happy that
someone loves him at all?
Does he really want to leave, but holding on for fear that life will offer nothing else?
Sometimes I feel like my delivery came with too many accessories
we don’t even speak
And how can we?
We have run out of anything new to say.
Somewhere we lost it…
I don’t even feel it when he touches me
And the monotony that is making love, won’t allow either of us to let go
To take us to the one realm where only our love and God can exist
I used to be an aphrodisiac
Potent, and addictive
I have probably long lost my savor
Now what will we do when sin presents itself as flesh, tempting us to yield?
If there is nothing left here, what morale will hold us back from running this well completely dry?
I am cold now
Frozen and old now
Alienated and burned from love now
I don’t even think I care to return
I wouldn’t be going home even if I did
My bags have been packed because my welcome has been outlived
It’s time to retire this façade
I’m down….