Misery

You make me cry.
It's that simple.
Even as I write this, I feel that burning at the corners of my eyes. I lock the door in fear someone will walk in, see me about to cry.
I don't know if it will be a sob, weep, or one of those quiet, long cries.
But I know I'll cry.

What else am I supposed to do?
How do you want me to respond to you?
I am terrible at words, feelings, empathy.
You know this.
You don't know the depth of my emotions, though.
You broke your own heart and mine in one blow.
Impressive, if we weren't the ones getting hurt.

If you weren't the one with a rope around your neck,
and I wasn't the one losing a heart,
it'd almost be a story for the ages. A tragedy.

But for me, for you, it is us.
It is our lives.