An attempt.

I'm so tired, she moaned, kinda softly, really wanna give it up, boy. I guess I can't do it anymore, or, not so well as I used to do and it makes me sad, makes you bored and we don't need this in the end, this mess, this sadness, this end.

We could still try, we deserve it.

YOU deserve it, that's what yer sayin.

No, I mean us as a matter of fact. C'mon, all the time we're into it, all the words and hours and stuff. All the joy. All that jazz, baby.

She laughed. A little, shy, brilliant and genuine smile. Like a butterfly, swinging through my eyes and slipping away so blue. She would always have that smile in the face to me when I had to get home starved and damaged. That genuine smile, the butterfly.

But in didn't put these roundabouts into words. I only smiled back. A little bit devoted for sure, but trying to find a way to some unknown road into her heart. I only smiled back.

And that was all. Not enough. Not enough. Hell.