The blocking words

We always talk. Talk, talk, talk. And sometimes we get closer to understanding, and sometimes we don't. And always there's a hole in my heart from the simple effort of not truly needing to say anything to you, except to say, to scream, to fall apart to the tune of the words: can't you see that I'm dying without you. I love you more than I could ever know to explain. I love you so much. Desperate.   Fucking empty. Take your time. Don't trust. But I'm dying here without you, and you're not really here because you won't let yourself be. I've been waiting on the edge of this cliff for you alone. And I need you now. I need you to come save me from this, or just stand next to me. I fucking love you so much.