I guess I’ll never be comfortable
until I can cry by myself.
Unfortunately whenever I cry
I have to be screaming for help.
I have to hold it back
too many times the tears fall
behind open eyes.
And when I finally let people see
into my soul and mind,
they leave me behind
with broken promises in my hands
and scars that look like ladders.
They follow a pattern
that lead to my face.
No, I can’t erase the
thought of you.
Even if I could I wouldn’t
benefit, because then I would never learn.
The lesson still isn’t fully clear
and I fear it never will be.
I am always seeking
the next level.
Impatient, I wish I had it all now:
The husband, the car, the house,
the sense of security that you promised me.
And then left
broken in my hand
because of a harsh reality
that I had already seen and was preparing for:
The calm before the storm
The meeting before the war
The actions I abhor that drove me
Crazy over
You
Sanity was tinted
in the color,
the sight,
and the smell of you.
I don’t know what to do…
because crying would be screaming for help.
And I don’t think you’d save me;
I have to save myself.
Although I long for someone else to fill that
time
space
and consistency I’ve always wanted,
I’m not there yet.
And it’s just a longing
to move along from the pain.
I’m trying to give myself time to think,
but all I think about is you.
And us.
And was…
Because never again
will “we” be in existence.
More so just a memory,
while I try to heal.
And deal with the growing envy
that maybe someone was better.
But I have to stop comparing,
because all I have is myself.
And still, crying would feel like I’m screaming for help.
