A to Z and back
I read his poem fifty times
I saw myself within the lines
I don’t know if that was his intent
It brought tears to my eyes regardless of what he meant
I am just starting to recognize that what’s in my head
Means nothing if it’s left unsaid
So regardless of who cares how I feel
I owe it to someone to say what’s real
Language is the quantification of thought
regardless of what’s lost
In translation from mind to mouth
And I think of this as I wonder who his poem was about
So many times I’ve read and cried
As thoughts translated from tired eyes
Brought a new perspective of someone I love
And I try to see from their eyes hovering above
Because he continues to shut down
And I know not how
to keep him from drowning
Of course I know how it feels
To be falling from the sky
But I don’t know how to help him heal
And I don’t know why
I know that it’s not my job
To make him magically better
But the fact that he hurts hurts me
Does that make sense?
I’m sitting here trying to grapple with the present tense
In which he’s around the world
In a different place and he’s floating away
So he’s not here for me to look in the eyes and ask “are you okay”
And I know what he’d say
He’d say he’s fine
There’s nothing else he can
The mettle in his mouth becomes ambrosian
To his thoughts
As I sit here and think I have a right
To what goes on in his head
Simply because I feel we’d be better off dead
If the world was without him
So I feel I have no right to ask
And he feels he needs to be brought to task
Of course he should be sad if he wants
But sitting next to me, humming a song
I can feel him hurting
And he’s so undeserving
Of any emotion
with a semblance of relation to pain
The thoughts in my head writhe and buck
But there’s nothing to do with talk but dumb luck
So even though I know what I think
I can’t make my mouth say the words it needs
So please see that I’ve written this entirely selfishly
Because I know that I’m not what he needs
Even though he sees
How much I want to be there for him
I’m a bumbling idiot sometimes
And I’m absolutely terrified
Of the words that come out of my own mouth
Sometimes I just want to shout
My frustration with myself
Because I can’t seem to balance want with able
And selfishly I want him to have thought of me
As he was writing his poem
Because I’ve always hoped he’d see
How much I cared about him without my actually having to speak
Because I know that if I speak enough
I’m going to mess up
I’m so used to feeling lost
I’m so used to feeling used
I’m so used to feeling abused
I’m so used to feeling
And I’m not so used to speaking
So this is all new for me
And I know that it’s messy
Sloppy, doesn’t make sense
Of course I know that I could help him forever
And it might never be enough
And that would be okay with me
And it’s not that he’s too hard to read
Sometimes he wears his heart on his sleeve
I just don’t know how to give him what he needs
It’s so much easier to feel like he does
Than to help someone you love
Because I don’t know what to say
Or if I should even stay
The fact he hurts hurts me
Does that make sense?
I’m trying to find something that’s present tense
For us but I can’t and I guess that’s okay
Just know that I want to stay
Until you’re okay
And it’s okay that you’re not
You have a right to feel that way
And I know that I don’t have a right to feel the way I do
But I guess this was just a long winded version of me trying to say
That I think you’re so undeserving
Of whatever you seem to feel
That’s making you say “I’m fine”
