Heart's Frustration

Is there any spark left for us to kindle?
I don’t want the lovely light to dwindle.
I desperately need to fill the hollowing.
I've grown bemused about the taste of what
I strived to keep magnanimously swallowing.

I don’t want to expire terrified and alone.
I don't want to believe my chance is blown.
But he’s become remote, he's withdrawn,
and I’m expected to struggle on.
Without his gentle hand to hold,
warm arms to comfortably enfold,
to shield me from the pain of cold.

I say. with my fingers crossed behind my back:
I’ll go about it on my own, like I always have,
by hoisting myself up from another collapse!

What I want most is what terrifies him.
I've just been screaming into the wind.

I confess my aching fingers deny,
as does a scared and timid tongue.
My heart always yearns otherwise.
So, which one is bleeding wrong?

Reason warns it'd be safer to drop it,
Yet love refuses to disconnect from it.
A little bit is surely better than nothing.
It insists that there must be something.

Here I tremble on this indecisive precipice.
Is there even a rhyme or a single purpose?
Is it that my loneliness is the sole excuse?
I'm tired of running headlong into the wall,
that these good intentions serve futile use.

I hate feeling this lost and confused!

To hell with this!
I don't need anyone.
I'll regurgitate the ire,
then swallow my tongue.