Just ask, she said.

Ask for what you want, what you need and explain your boundaries to me in plain English.

Express yourself she siad in ways that I can work with, that I can digest. Let me see all your hurts, wounds and inner child shit so I can hold them - she said.

But no.

Why?

I am not a robot who needs to spit out a roll of data for you to process.

We.

Are human - have 5 or 6 senses more. Detect the comings and goings of our familiars, can feel into what the other is feeling - or we don’t.

When we don’t is when we are wrapped up in ourselves. We need a notice tacked to our door for clarity - for anything to be made clear.

This.

This is not how I will live with another. This is living alone with my supposed best friend. When you can’t feel me - when the very things I need you to see, you do not wish to be with, then, then it is an end.

Ending is where. I take these needs back in house - will take care of them - like soiled linen, like tarnished silverware. I will give my full attention as only I can - wash and polish and caress in the way only I can - and then - put then gently into the drawers of my heart. Only to remove and show when the season is fully ripe.