I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a storm
I’m shouting at the windows and you won’t even take the earphones out.
But I don’t want to knock on your door
Because I know that with one swift movement
Your playing cards house will founder
And you’d be under its weight even more
Than you were when you let the roof lay on the back of your head
And mold your spine like a wilted flower.
“What’s wrong with you?!”
I want to scream it until my lungs are raw
Until I’ve got no voice left
And even then, scream in silence with my coarse lips
And begging eyes
You used to be such sweet sunshine
What happened? I see you and I want to cry. Just traces of you means wounds for me. I said I didn’t care. But I was just tired. I was so, so tired. But I’m pretty sure you’re tired of hoping that I still did care. I’m sorry.
You’ve been like that ever since we parted ways. I can’t help but feel guilty. I feel like I could have taken you with me. I could have taken care of you until you could stand up on your own.
“I won’t always be here to catch you when you fall.”
I was telling you to be careful. You weren’t. Yes, every inch of this tapestry of pain was stitched into your skin by your own hands. But I could have pulled the barbed wire thread away from you. If only I wasn’t too proud to care. Now I have to endure the sting of seeing you sewn like such wreckage, unable to undo each ravaged suture because that would tear everything apart again. And so you keep on stabbing, and looping, and pulling, like a mindless machine left to run until it breaks down, because the spool of wire just won’t quit retching.
But seriously, what happened to you?
And more importantly, what will it take to save you?
I want to break away and save you. Do something I know is impossible. Just show up at your quadrangle or something and kidnap you. Take your hand and never let you go again, no matter the cost of that. No questions asked. No hesitation of “what next?” No fears of “this is so incredibly impractical. My parents will have my head for this.” Give you part of my life – because there’s way too much joy here for me alone, and knowing that you have none and I just can’t give any of mine to you just makes it miserable.
I wish I could keep you. Wipe away the tears at night, fight by your side during the day, make sure you know you have something to wake up to. If only I had the power to pluck you from your situation right now… protect you from the black vines you’ve allowed to grow around you, wrap around you like a boa, like death.
Dear God, why can’t it be that easy?
You’re just so far away. And even if you were near, you still wouldn’t hear me. You still wouldn’t listen. I’m just praying that right now the music in your earphones is playing too loud for you to take – and that just wakes you up enough for you to throw them off. And then maybe, if you haven’t deafened yourself yet, just maybe you’d hear me. I’m praying with all I’ve got that you’d hear me.