Breaking Apart

I don't know why this happened, left me bathing shell-shocked in the aftermath; a ragged stitched doll, limbs strewn across the gulf of once friendship, with the sawdust kicked out. What are your thoughts now? Your silence hones a mute razor, snickering through the silk of atmospheric disquiet. What, a friend in need is a pain in the ass? Well, that's the platonic myth exploded. I don't know what you meant by the warm temptations of your words; I don't deserve cold storage, isolation, torture by the iron maiden of my feelings, closed off with nothing but my own pain for company. At least talk to me, heat up the cold shoulder, look at me; I am still here, I am still that person; don't shut me in the dark cloister of indifference; please, humour me...with a version of the truth.