letting the cables sleep

I opened the window and breathed in the fresh air of mid fall. Decaying leaves. Not there yet. The rain still sounds like precious summer. At one point it changes. Soon.
I looked at the little rivers that had formed and were running underneath the cars, carrying little floating yellow leaves.

I had consumed half a bottle of wine. I had been on the phone with you for two hours and. There was no breakthrough. After 6 years. I am on the phone with you and I feel, as if... No. I feel nothing. You don’t let me feel anything. You are in an other world. As if I never knew you.
I don’t even think that you like me these days. For we are different. Or you are different. I, for most part think, have not changed.
You are still in me, a part of me. ME.
And yet you construct your little glass walls, which are not to be seen, only to be felt. Down the cable lines our voices drift and you tell me time and time again, that you've got to go.
Go.
It’s sad. To lose. Spark.
I think you’ve lost yours.