“Crying for Help” by San’tasia Jones

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



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



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.


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