So Much, Yet So Little

I try to open my mouth and nothing comes out... would it matter? My tongue has brought nothing but further confusion, sorrow and remorse... remorse for the things said and those never uttered. Perhaps I have said more than I intended... more than I realized or hoped. As I write, my words become tainted and my heart uneasy... the right words won't come and the ones that find their place are often troublesome. I fear they do nothing but further the distance between what once was and what now has become. I'm cold and without solace... I am alone here, watching you slip further and further away.