I am at my worst and furthest when I can no longer see myself in his eyes. When he has shut me out of his heart and I don’t illuminate into his eyes anymore. His eyes now show some shapeless, fading figure. A stranger. Lifeless remains of me.
I am at my worst and furthest when his heart no longer reaches out for me. And that doesn’t pain him. He is not uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable enough about having lost me to try and find me.
I am at my worst and furthest when I cannot find that special place in his world that was precisely shaped for me. That place I belonged into and that was so naturally mine that fit me completely. When he has refurbished his space in a way that made my existence no longer as natural, accepted. No longer fit for me. No longer.
I am at my worst and furthest when he is no longer the one that sees me and that I belong with. When I have faded out of him and yet he does not look empty. Just cold. Like a blue sun.
When he is as unreachable as he is near.