We sit beside each other, the silence crashing like ocean waves between us. I could reach out and feel your skin beneath my fingers, but if I were to scream this pain, it would take days for you to hear the echoes bouncing off the walls. Fault does not fall entirely on either you or I. Stress lays upon your shoulders with such weight that you fear you may crumble under it. I want to hold you and whisper comfort, but you run through my fingers; sand-like in your unconscious rejection. I don’t blame you, really. I cant even keep myself in place, never mind provide shelter to another with these cracked and broken hands. I wonder now if I will ever be what you truly need.