What happened between us, you asked me. Why?

I stood there, unable to put any words into an answer, remain numbly composed, before crashed hard as ever for the one last time.

Piece by piece, each one of you took something from me.

When I reflect my life as I am older, when I am worn down from these niggling dramas, when I am left alone, or widowed, would I finally articulate the meanings of the passing years of my youth?

Would I be able to, by then, still keep a loving and gentle heart; to embrace all and the whole of everyone of you; to walk into your heart again, as you mine?

What would remain of me?