I fell in love with your loneliness

I fell in love with your loneliness because it matched mine. You were sharp and closed off but sometimes your hand would brush against mine and we called it love. When we watched movies, you never moved, barely breathed, so I pretended you weren’t there. Out in public, walking through blurring crowds, I’d think of something funny and smile to myself. Once you looked over at me and people saw it and they said we were in love. You’d cry when you thought I wasn’t looking (and sometimes when you knew I was) so I’d bring you tea. You never drank it. There was black, hard space between us and the last time we spoke, we shouted. You said I didn’t love you enough and I’d screamed back “I would if you let me!” and that was it. I fell in love with your loneliness and that was the problem.