I grieve her.
You delay.
The me from before the world fell grey.

I study her.
And you do too.
The she before the she withdrew.

I am not her.
You disagree.
You say I am her and she is me.

You grieve me.
I beg you not.
The me that is now will start to rot.

You carry her.
You forget about me.
How can I convince you there is no we?