By Ishki R
You’re espresso, bitter and bold
And you could be warm
Could be fluid
Could be amicable, mix well with others
But God you cling to your tiny little cup, refusing to warm, refusing to open up, refusing to grow
And I can’t make you.
I tried to encourage, but nobody can force someone quite so determined can they?
At some point, I grew accustomed.
God you’re charming.
I’m sure it started forever ago
Though not entirely sure when
(Or am I?)
Was it at midnight when I was the only one you told how lonely you really were?
How heartbroken the one-night stand had made you?
How empty you felt?
Was it when you confided the darkest thoughts you had on humanity?
Was it the shared songs sent over dial-up waiting for days only to be intrigued and sing along because those meant something to each of us?
Did it mean something?
I ask, because I fell.
But I fell a long time ago and never admitted it
How naive I was to think I could bear the weight of it
I carved out space for you in my flesh and you took it up, even though you never asked for it, and never thanked
(And I never asked for thanks)
And you whispered things
And I assured you, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay
It’s not scary, it’s safe
I’m here, I promise, I’m safe
But I wasn’t, not from you
And you worked your way in like a splinter under my nail
But I don’t have the tools needed to get you out from so deep
and you’re stuck
Some dark stain, just left there
And I don’t know what to do with all these tiny little pieces of you that were left behind in me
Little facts, worries, wounds, pains, tears
Left in seclusion
And I’m left alone
To blame, of course
I never even got an answer
You were there and then not
And I’ll never really truly know but I can guess all the directions I’d be blamed and all the pathetic meagre ways you’d pin it on me, say I fooled myself, I believed what I wanted but you
Are the one who whispered words like honey
Those things that you should have never said
Because you never meant them
And I knew but damn if hope doesn’t spring eternal and I’m a hopeless romantic
I knew, deep down, it wasn’t hope blooming
I knew it was a wound
A gaping, mawing wound and that it was slowly eating me alive to keep you safe and damn
I don’t even exist to you anymore, I’m sure
But I still hope you find peace, peace, peace
Growth is personal
But your wound is not mine to heal.