Have you ever dug your own grave?

You die a little when the love of your life says you hurt him.
when he lifts his eyes and sees question marks dancing above his head.
walls crumble around your lungs,
you inhale dirt,
the wet soil of the grave you dug under the pouring rain.
shovel in hand
every scoop digs deeper into a trance
the ground uncovers ancient bones
traces of fears you thought abolished years ago
but you carry on.

And he stands there by your side
still.
so very still.
watching pieces of you hit the ground six feet under.
hurt as he is
he cannot move
supportive and immobile
all he can do it watch.