You grow silent. I twitch your muscles to prompt a respone. You grow still. I speak up for the first time since you told me to shut up. You grow deathly stiff. I grow deathly silent.

Was the offer so unpalatable?

Was the thought so disgusting?

Were you not so kind, I would have gladly saved you. Saved us. Were you not so affectionate, I would have gladly used you. Controlled us. Were you not so loving, I would have gladly moved on. Moved on from you. And yet as this scavenger feasts on your remains, I am faced with a decision. To jump into the arms of another, feels uncomfortably like betrayal, despite the fact our relationship had never been of that nature. To give someone else the choice, after you refused to pick, feels uncomfortably like chopped liver.

And yet, I can't imagine someone such as you, wishing me to end alongside you. And yet, I can't imagine someone such as I, leaving the seat beside you. We both know in our debates, despite me being objectively right, I was never the one to win a single one. I half heartedly acquiesce to the memory of you, and move unto greener pastures, that paradoxically seem all that much grayer.