I've never seen sad eyes like those.
I want to kiss them dry,
still those moving lips,
and calm those trembling hands.
You're broken, I know.
I'm broken, too.
You're fixing yourself, I know.
I'm fixing me, too.
I can't help you win this fight.
But I'll be a step behind,
holding your hand,
or pressing my hands to your back.
This is your battle.
You may push me away,
but I won't be far behind.
It hurts, sure, to see you
looking straight through me,
while I peer through the tiny
keyhole, into your heart and mind.
You keep everything locked up,
hidden.
But when the nights get late,
and the alcohol numbs your veins
and brings back every
bump, bruise, and cut in your
poor soul,
you take my hand,
and I give you pieces of my heart
to fill the holes in yours.
I may not be the center of your world,
I may never be.
But I would never want to watch someone
orbit around me, day after day.
But, oh, what I would give
to be the stars,
the moon,
casting a soft, warm light
onto your dark world.
I want to hover over you in a
billion shiny pieces.
I want my heart to be the luminous moon,
full of craters and shadowed valleys,
but steady and guiding.
A solid fixture for your eyes to focus on
when the rest of your world
is turned upside down.
As the darkness descends,
I'll cover you with my light,
scaring away the things
that haunt you at night.
As I wrap my arms around you,
your heartbeat slows,
your breathing deepens,
and you drift into a place I will never know.
I'll be holding you when the sun comes up.
And when you kiss me good morning,
I'll savor the sweetness in your eyes.
These moments are fleeting,
because night comes so fast.