"Lover, can you help me? I'm a child lost in the woods. A lit path eludes me."

I was so immensely broken to a point where I had made myself physically ill. I felt so much that I made myself ill. If that isn't love then I don't know what is. I was astray. I was abashed. I had forgotten what it felt like to experience dry eyes. I breathe in the fall on this Sunday morning, but I am unable to discern it's coolness in my lungs. It is not relieving like it used to be, it is added strain on my heart. What great agony it is to breathe. So I do so slowly and more drawn out, so as to minimize the misery. Yesterday lingers in my skin and I let it numb me. I am empty of life and impassive; blank. I am as cold and heavy as marble. I cannot distinguish, I cannot think, I cannot heal. I am a walking shell of a hindrance, a catalyst, an aboriginal.