Broken Guitar Strings

Your icy presence has become significantly alarming as of late.
I can no longer dismiss this constant feeling of discomfort everytime you come around.
You leave an insistent smell of dishonesty that stains the walls.
The bufferflies that once fluttered in my gut at the sight of you have been gradually replaced by soul sucking leeches.
Memories of your fingers gently gliding against my flesh have faded into eerie moments of inhospitable gropes and grabs.
Your arms no longer feel like a safety blanket but like an opressive cage.
I can't help but reminisce to a time when your "I love you" sounded like the soft chirping of birds at sunrise on the first of September.
Our hearts beating in sync, what once sounded like a beautifully tuned love song now just sounds like the dying moments of broken guitar strings.
I know you feel it too. The change. The unsettling distance. It's too loud to go unnoticed.
We're only holding on to dead embers in hopes that somehow there might be a slight spark of light left but we both know that's not how this works.
We might have our hesitations but our beautiful recollections are far too valuable to dispose over pointless stubbornness.
It's time we found our own melodies.