Eyes
         Just
                 Don’t
                           Know.

Like
      Thought
                   Didn’t
                             Make
                                      Night
                                                Stay.
Think,
                Say.


You’re love.

The bottom of my dress
ballooning out,
like a doily on the dance floor.

Feeling like a princess
As I held Mommy’s hand.

Twirling me all around,
Like a ballerina let out of
Her jewelry box.

My greatest dance partner,
To the best drummer in the band.

It's the land of the free,
but no one can afford the rent.

I pondered everything
You did that I adored.
A smile played on my face
As I remembered
Your eyes,
Your smile,
Your cologne.
But mostly I remembered
The way I caught you watching me,
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
And the way you turned away,
A smile on your lips,
Blood in your cheeks.

Thought there’d be a few more people,
In the bar tonight.
Only a couple cars in the lot,
You parked yours right next to mine.

I was sitting at the counter,
When you walked in,
Looked around,
And sat at the other end.

I looked up from my drink,
To take in the company,
Other than the bartender,
And all at once I felt a little more empty.

My drink went bad,
In a hurry.
Maybe I’d had too much
Or maybe it was my tears,
That made everything a little more blurry.

I could barely see you,
Sitting across the way.
When you ordered something strong,
And pretended to look away.

I looked down at my alcohol,
Tried to clear my mind,
But when I looked back up,
You were already looking this time.

And my drink went bad,
In a hurry.
Maybe I’d had too much,
Or maybe it was my tears,
That made everything a little more blurry.

No, that drink didn’t taste as good as I thought it would.
And I probably drank a little more than I thought I should.
But maybe it was the tears in my eyes that formed in a hurry,
That made everything a little more blurry.

Because,

My drink went bad,
In a hurry.

Yeah,

I probably had too much,
But it was definitely the tears,
That made everything a little more blurry.

these don't happen often,
memories of moments
that cannot be replaced.
they're like winning the lottery,
the full moon in the sky,
or falling in love with someone's face.
they're mental,
not hard copied photographs.
the kind that can't be captured with a flash,
but rather measured by the sound of a someone's laugh.

I want to replay
the roles of Juliet and Romeo,
Sneaking over for each other's company,
Feeling your skin against my own,
Draping me in your cologne.

And I want to wake up,
With my head upon your chest,
Surrounded by the warmth,
Of your button down shirt,
And the protection of your arms.

And nothing else.

I want to wake up,
With my head upon your chest,
Surrounded by the warmth,
Of your button down shirt,
And the protection of your arms.

I could always tell when it was just me in bed, instead of the two of us. I opened my eyes to the darkness and the alarm clock glared the time at me. 1:46 in the morning was no time to be awake on a week day but all too often, I found myself awaiting his return that never came. Lying on my back, I looked over to the mess of sheets and comforter next to me that harbored the absence of my husband.

The house was quiet and I couldn’t tell what room he was in, if he was in a room at all, but rather casing the walls, his invisible gun between his fingers as he secured our fort. I threw the covers off of me and stepped cautiously into the night. He had closed the door after leaving the bedroom and when I opened it, I could see the dull glow of the light above the stove coming from the kitchen up the stairs.

I was careful walking down the stairs as not to scare him if we both came around the corner at the same time. Peering over the railing, I could see Kenny at the dining room table. He was shirtless and hunched over with his forehead resting in his palms on the table. The dull yellow bulb softly illuminated the kitchen and Kenny’s shadowy figure paced on the floor next to him with each breath he took.

My bare feet were quiet against the hardwood floors as I stepped off the final step. I heard the faint sniffle of Kenny’s nose as I stepped into the yellow light. I took a deep breath and leaned against the counter next to the sink.

“Kenny?” I whispered and when he didn’t answer, “Baby?”

He stayed quiet but I knew that he could hear me. I watched his back rise and fall; his breathing steady, letting me know that he wasn’t in the middle of a flashback. I walked over to him and squatted beside his chair at the table.

“Kenny, baby,” I said quietly, then cautiously rested my hand on his bicep. “Baby, talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” He said, “it’s the same thing every time, Maggie.”

He kept his head in his hands and I saw a few tears drip to his thigh where his boxers didn’t cover.

“I want this ******* ringing in my ears to stop,” he said a little louder, “when I close my eyes, I don’t want to see someone’s body torn to shreds.”

“I know,” I whispered, “I wish I could help.”

“I wish every time you rolled over in bed, I wouldn’t roll over too and almost choke you because I think you’re an enemy.”

I’d never heard him admit to almost hurting me. I’d known that he’d sometimes thought I was the enemy and almost pinned me down to choke the life out of me, but he always realized what he was doing. He’d never gone as far as putting his hands on me.

“Maggie,” Kenny whispered to me, bringing me from my thoughts, “sometimes I wish I would’ve died over there.”

“Don’t talk like that,” I said, interrupting him quickly.

“It’s true, Maggie,” he said, “I can’t stand living like this. I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

A car door slammed outside, a teenager arriving home late and Kenny pushed his chair back, stepping around me to look out front through the living room window. I sat back against the cupboard of the kitchen, feeling the cold floors beneath my bare thighs where my underwear didn’t cover. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs, hugging them as tightly as I wish I could hug Kenny.
I could hear him walking through the house, looking through different windows, before he finally returned to the kitchen, peeking through the small window above the sink. I looked up at him from my spot on the floor as he leaned against the counter.

“I think it’s safe now Maggie,” he said.

I didn’t bother trying to tell him that we weren’t in any danger. I wasn’t looking for an argument at two in the morning. I looked up at him again as he stared into space, focusing on something, if anything across the kitchen.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” I asked him softly, touching his shin that was beside me.

“Sh, no Maggie, I think I hear something,”

I wanted to tell him that there was nothing outside, there was nothing inside, nothing was going to harm us but before I could, he gripped his head and ears, and his face displayed his pain. I could tell that his ears were ringing and in his head, he’d told me before, it sounded and looked like bombs going off.

“Make it ******* stop,” he said, “please make it stop.”

He was gripping his head harder as if trying to get inside his skull. Slowly, he slid down the side of the counter to where he sat beside me, his knees folded up as he tried to get the ringing to quiet down. He was beginning to surrender. I unwrapped my own legs and put my arms around him, stroking the side of his head with my thumb. After a few minutes, he began to relax and lean into me. I hugged him tighter and felt his entire body begin to loosen as he rested against my chest, tears landing on my T-shirt. A few more minutes passed and he’d completely laid down against the hardwood flooring on his side, his cheek now on the thigh of my outstretched legs. I continued stroking his shoulder, his neck and his head. I could feel his tears coming one at a time, landing on my bare leg. Kenny rested his hand on my thigh, hanging on as if he was about to die in the battle of his own head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Me too.”

I hope when we lie down together in one another’s arms
After staying up much too late,
You feel my rib cage underneath my skin,
Beneath your fingertips
As you rest your hands and cradle me in your arms.
When you feel the ridges of my bones,
I hope you’re reminded of the small parakeet
That sat inside a big cage where all day long
You heard her chirp and was reminded of my steady heartbeat.
Only did the chirps quiet when you reached your fingers through
The small openings; wanting to touch its feathers and feel
Them through your flesh.
Are you reminded of the way my heart seemed to stop
Whenever you moved your fingers over my scars?
I wonder if the wounds that have healed over
Remind you of a jailhouse that holds back the monsters
That lie within me.
If the white bars that hold the cage
Remind you of a prison cell where an inmate
Speaks quietly to himself late at night,
I hope you’re reminded of the parakeet and how
It fills the night with chirps, like the prisoner’s voice
Echoes through the cells as if he’s the only one who’s
Imprisoned.
And I hope my scars tell you that the monsters
Have been silenced
For the night.

I just want it all.
All that I had before.
Before that awful night when you left.
Left my heart in pieces.
Pieces like shattered glass.
Glass that’s irreplaceable.
Irreplaceable, all those nights.
Nights that are now so quiet.
Quiet that makes me think.
Think you might return.
Return from whatever you ran from.
From wherever you are.
Are all wrong.
Wrong to believe.
Believe you ever fell for me.
Me, like I fell for you.
You hopefully catching my fall.
Fall for another girl.
Girl who’s better than myself.
Myself, that’s all I have.
Have no love.
Love for anything.
Anything, anyone.
Anyone but you.

Lay awake while you sleep.
Arm around me, holding me close.
Keeping me safe, even in your dreams,
As you hold me tight.

Roll over to face you,
Watching your seemingly lifeless body.
Resting my hand on your chest.
As you hold me tight.

My soft kiss, upon your cheek,
Wakes you from your dreams.
You ask me if something’s wrong.
As you hold me tight.

I shake my head from side to side.
You place a kiss on my forehead.
I smile up at you,
As you hold me tight.

I whisper that I love you.
And you say it too.
Then wrap both arms around me,
And you hold me tighter.

He was pale. Opaque,
His skin the color
Of a ghost.
For, that's what he was.

I could see right through him
As he moved in front of me.

He was so close,
Right before my eyes.

I wanted to reach out,
Grab him and pull him close.

I wanted to rest my head
Over his exposed chest.

I could see his heart beating
Behind his clear, glass, translucent shell.

For a moment,
He was still alive;
Until I reached
For his hand,

And couldn't feel his wrinkled grasp.

Being wrong isn’t so bad.







Being right is the problem.

When the rooster calls before the sun has broken the horizon, does it wish you a good morning and kiss you on your forehead, or does it remind you that you’ve survived another night and have seen a new sunrise?

Does your bed push you out into the cold or hold you in its blanket arms and tell you to stay?

Is your wrist in need of cleansing from the dried blood that stains your skin after making love to a thin razor blade in the wee hours of morning, or do you pat yourself on the back because you said “no” instead of letting it **** you?

When you brush your teeth and stare at the reflection in the mirror, does the smeared mascara that’s ran down your cheeks trigger the waterfall of new tears to wash away what reminded you that you lived?

Does your bed call you to its arms, the blankets rub your back and your pillow catch your tears?

Do you surrender again to the razor blade in the comfort of your bed’s love?

We are not alone,
One broken heart
Does not cry,
Without others crying
Along beside it.
One heart,
Does not shatter
Into a million pieces,
Without the help of others
Putting it back together.
One life,
Does not move on
By itself
Without the help,
Of another assisting in its recovery.

words written,
                                  and rewritten,
                                                              crossed out once again,


                                                                                            and rewritten.

“That’s what love does to you, right?” she asked. “It makes you happy, and content, and numb.”

She pulled up her sleeve, exposing the clean, ruler-straight scars; the damage coming only from a dissembled, silver razor blade. She moved her fingers slowly up her forearm, feeling the slight rise in flesh, like a train moving over railroad ties, as the skin healed over, creating the scar.

“What do your parents say?” I asked her.

“They don’t know.” she said in a soft voice.

“And if they did?”

“I’d probably be sitting where I am now, talking to you.” she said. “and living in some sort of mental institute for crazy people, along with others who have these same so-called ‘addictions.’”

I made a note on my clipboard. The brown, wooded board serving as a curtain, shielding the notes I was making about the girl sitting across from me. The girl with auburn hair, wearing jeans, a pair of converse shoes, and a gray sweatshirt. From the outside, no one would even suspect her as one to mutilate the skin on her wrist with a sharp tool.

“Do any of your friends know?” I questioned.

“No.” she answered in that same soft voice.

I made another note.

“What would everyone think if they were to find out?” I asked her.

“They’d probably be confused. They wouldn’t like it. Then they‘d probably hold one of those interventions, then ship me to the institute for the crazies.” she explained.

“So then why do it?”

There was a long silence. Neither of us said anything. I waited for her answer, as she put together the words in her head before saying them out loud.

“I like it.” she whispered. “I like the way my skin swells up and leaves the smallest rise of a scar.” she paused again, collecting some more thoughts. “It takes away all the other pain I’m feeling, it makes me numb. That’s what love is supposed to do.”

“It’s not healthy.” I told her.

“Is the kind of love between two people healthy? When it’ll all eventually come to an end?”

For the first time since entering the small cubicle after coming into the therapy center, she’d shown emotion. The soft whisper she’d been using the whole time disappeared, rising to a higher volume as she argued my point of self harm and how it isn’t safe. I sensed a hint of anger as she looked me dead in the eye looking for an answer to the question she’d fired at me. She leaned back into the small comfortable chair across from me. She took a Kleenex out of the box and wiped her fresh tears that had began falling down her cheeks.

She took a deep breath. “I’m not depressed.” she paused. “I don’t want to **** myself and I don’t want to die.” She took another Kleenex from the box. “But I know this kind of love won’t ever come to an end.”

“Until you cut too deep.”

It takes both hands to count the number of times I’ve been ***** but doesn’t count because I didn’t say ‘no.’
Both hands to recall the men who I felt obligated to sleep with because I had turned them on it’d be ‘mean’ to leave them that way.
On both hands, I can remember the number of times the smell of alcohol on his breath made me want to ***** as he kissed my neck before thinking that I wanted it.
Both hands to count the number of times I wasn’t strong enough to push him off of me before he pushed inside of me.
Both hands to count the number of times he told me to ‘calm down, it was alright.’
I used both hands too many times to run my nails down his back, making him think I was enjoying myself; hoping to end it end sooner.
On both hands, I can count the number of ******* I faked on a different man’s mattress in a different position than the man before.
On both hands, I can count the number of times I said I liked it from behind the most so I wouldn’t have to see his face.
On both hands, I can count the number of men I thought might sleep with me and actually like me instead of using me as just another way to get laid.
Both hands I can count the number of times he finished and I got dressed in the dark so that I could leave and never hear from him again.
On both hands, I can count the number of times I’ve cried myself to sleep, feeling ashamed of the number of men I’d wished I’d said ‘no’ to.
Both hands I can count the number of nights I’ve stayed up only to cut another slash through my wrist and let his memory seep through the wound.  
On both hands, I count the number of times I didn’t want to have ***, but felt guilty and pressured into doing what he wanted.
Both hands I can count the number of times I’ve been *****, but didn’t say no, didn’t struggle, only cried in silence after it was over.

Your fingers sift through my hair
Like wind drifts through a meadow.
You speak like the sparrow calls in the distance
And your touch is soft as a butterfly wing.
You smell sweet like after the rain
But it is your breaths that take mine away.

I live in a cloud filled world
Where only with you,
Do I catch a glimpse of the sun.

Whisper your breath against my neck
Like the wind speaks through the tree leaves.
Feel my pulse beneath your lips,
Over my wrists,
Next to my jawline,
Hovering about my still heart.
Spill blood rushing in my veins,
Into my lungs and send
A tornado of butterflies
Spinning deep within my stomach.
I want to fly into your garden
And flutter in such a harmony
That piano keys long to be touched
With a tenderness that only fingertips can hold.

each new shake of the square box,
another white stick.
the lighter to burn her death certificate
after her lips have already signed.

Today is the first day of autumn
And I’m falling for you like the leaves
Begin to litter the ground;
Slow and steady until
I completely come undone.
I’m a storm of color raining with gravity.
The nights in which you hold me close
Are those that I cling to most.
I am the bark that’s wrapped
Around a tree that will weather
The hail, wind and lightning
While protecting you.
We love as though I am your heroine.
But you are the hero, saving me from
The demons who hide inside,
Waiting to strike like a match fresh from the box;
Anxiously awaiting to spark a flame within
My veins, sending smoke rising deep inside
My stomach; hungry for my body.
You’re a gentle animal who’s gone
Without food for days.
Savor the taste of my breath over your
Skin as I whisper your name beneath the stars.
Love me like I am a candle burning out.
Love me because you’re desperately
Afraid of darkness.

I can't stomach the thought of you and her,

*t o g e t h e r

Whenever I find
Myself thinking about you,
I get butterflies.

There are pictures of naked bodies
Bouncing from one cell tower to a different cell tower.
We live in a world where technology allows us
To see each other’s bodies long before we ever
Climb under blankets and have the privilege
Of exploring one’s anatomy in the comfort of the dark
Instead of through the mirror of a small bathroom
Where if you’re lucky, she might have included her face.
It’s too bad the boy or girl she sends it to still won’t know
The color of her eyes or that she scrunches her nose
When she’s mad or that she has the deepest dimples when she laughs.
Your body is more than just a screenshot that the receiver will take.
It’s more than ******* in the extra bit of sand
Inside the hour glass of your flesh covered skeleton.
It’s more than standing a little taller, arching your back
So that the cage of ribs protecting your heart show through
The lens of the camera.
Your body is more than turning to the left, then turning to the right
Because you’re trying to find an angle that makes you seem even thinner.
There are boys who only know how to love you as they hold their phone
With your picture in their eyes and their hand touching their own body
When they could be touching yours.
Do not allow a boy to love you through a picture because if a real man
Wants to love you, he won’t ask to see your naked anatomy before
First seeing your face and knowing that your eyes are blue,
That when you laugh, your dimples grow as deep as the Grand Canyon.
Do not allow yourself to let a boy love you through a picture that’s
Bounced from one cell tower to a different cell tower.

Stand in front of me.
Close range.
You’re like leaves upon this ground.
They begin to fall.
And you’ve began to change.
Don’t want to remember you this way.
Don’t want to remember this exchange.
You are not yourself.
And you are not the same.
Transformed into some super being.
Something I will never claim.
Insulted me, put me down.
Sent me through this pain.
But now the table’s turned.
And the game is ready to be played.

It seems everything happens for a reason,
I’ve suddenly lost my breath.
Realization has occurred,
Each new passing day,
Brings me one step closer to death.

This alcohol in my cup won’t numb the pain,
Just like the umbrella I hold above my head won’t stop the rain.

But it’ll cover it up.

Just like the cigarette I hold between my fingers,
Will levitate smoke, hide my face and softly linger.

Lay down with me,
Wrap me in your arm,
Hold me tight,
Protect me from all harm.

Replace my pillow with your chest,
Your heartbeat begins to accelerate.
Reminding me of my feelings,
I received on our first date.

Looking up into your eyes,
Yours locking on mine.
You kiss my forehead.
And I float up onto cloud nine.

You say I’m beautiful,
I say I’ve fallen,
But you’ve already caught me,
Laid my heart out, now it’s stolen.

Came to my rescue,
Saved me from any other guy.
Played my superman,
Helped me learn to fly.

Gently taking my face in your hands,
Placing upon my lips a kiss,
My heart skips a beat,
You’re just too hard to resist.

Wasn’t even looking,
When I stumbled upon your frame.
Falling in love,
And Cupid, you’re to blame.

Our whisper wars in the dark
Speak louder than the stars
Shining above. Their luminosity
Brightens my skin while I
Cradle into you.
Your secrets at 3 in the morning
Burn deep into my heart and
I keep them protected behind
My ribcage.
I hold your breaths against my *******
While the rise and fall of your chest
Moves like the tide of the ocean
Against the sand of the beach.
When you begin to drown in
The moonlight of the night,
Know that I am pacing the shoreline
With my flaming candle,
Waiting for your cries from within the waves.
Please know that when the wind blows out
The flickering fire, making wishes
For happiness, that dust from dandelions
Will still be visible in the air;
No matter how crisp the water’s kisses
Are against my cheek.
And know that even in the darkness
Of our ocean, when I’m losing
My strength to tread salt,
I will always reach for you,
Both to save you and be rescued.

Depressed People Have Best Friends Too
I don’t think that people comprehend
That there are days when my bed is my best friend.
She holds me snuggled in her blanket arms and doesn’t
Mind that the night before, I was punching her mattress stomach
And crying onto her pillow shoulders.
The days when my black curtains make it harder to pull
Myself away from her full size body because they’re
Shielding me from the sun are some of my favorite days to spend
Staring at the ceiling until I’m too tired from doing nothing.
2:00 in the afternoon feels like 2:00 in the morning.
Sleep comes easier behind the daylight after silently sobbing
To my bed the night before while the rest of the world
Slept peacefully.
I’ve found that the brisk breeze outside often punches me in the face
And the spring dandelions, summer heat, autumn leaves, and
Innocent white snow kicks me in my ribs when I’m already down.
Each morning, I cautiously leave my bed and all around me
It seems that people are throwing daggers at me with their eyes,
Whisper spitting poison from their lips.
The pain is simply too much.
Staying in bed, wrapped in the comfort of blanket arms
Holding me while I sleep away the hurt is easier.

I’ve walked through graveyards in the broad daylight,
Not to feel like I’m alive,
But to search for a place to die.
I want to know what section of the cemetery I’ll be buried in.
I’ve walked the grass between the headstones,
Reading the different names,
And in the far corner underneath a shade tree,
I used a shovel one night to dig out six feet
Of dirt which lies in a pile beside the rectangle hole.
I’ve knelt beside my plot and wondered if my casket
Would keep me warm after having left the cold earth.
The grass that surrounded my future home tickled my legs
As I prayed to a folded paper headstone that I held between my fingers.
Wrapped within the creases, rested my beloved razor blades
And written in the tear stained white space
Read the word, “depression.”

I threw the folded paper six feet under and stood up to refill the grave.

You built me up,
Made me feel invincible,
Like a skyscraper.
Nothing could knock me down.
Not one chance at breaking me.
It must’ve slipped my mind,
That one who creates,
Also has the power of destruction.

You asked me to save you
And I couldn’t for what little life was left of me
Figure out why you would ever ask such a broken person to perform a task like that.
How was I supposed to save you when I couldn’t even save myself?
I’m sorry that we both had to die
Even when you offered to save me if I saved you.
But you didn’t know that I was too far gone to ever be rescued.

because the simplest bit of eye contact,

can see all the secrets hidden beneath.

When you see my car,
Parked outside of that local bar,
Go ahead, stare and wonder,
What the Hell I’m doing there.

But don’t think about pulling in the lot,
Don’t think about walking in.
Don’t look for me in a booth,
I’m not there for something smooth.

Don’t come up,
And sit right down.
Don’t order a beer,
And pretend to look around.

Don’t act like you don’t know,
That I’m sitting right here,
Sippin’ on something strong,
While the bartender gives you your beer.

Don’t ask me how I’m doing.
Don’t question how I’ve been.
Don’t come around here acting,
Like you actually give a ****.

‘cause I don’t want to see your face.
And I don’t want to hear your voice.
I don’t want to know you miss me.
I don’t want to have to make that choice.

I’m just trying to get a buzz,
Something short of tipsy,
Don’t grab my hand,
Lace our fingers,
Don’t tell me that you miss me.

Don’t tell me I look good,
Don’t ask if you still have a chance.
Don’t look at the empty seats and floor,
And ask if I want to dance.

Don’t pull me in close,
Whisper that you want me back.
Don’t offer to buy my next drink,
My mind’s already off the track.

Don’t ask me how I’m doing,
Don’t question how I’ve been.
Don’t come around here acting,
Like you actually give a ****.

‘cause I don’t want to see your face.
And I don’t want to hear your voice.
I don’t want to know you miss me.
I don’t want to have to make that choice.

I’m just trying to get a buzz,
Something short of tipsy.
Don’t grab my hand,
Lace our fingers,
Don’t tell me that you miss me.

Don’t let out that long sigh,
Where you already know I don’t care.
Don’t order my next drink for me,
Everything’s already a watery blur.

Don’t turn your head the other way,
Because you don’t know what to say.
Don’t take another drink of your beer,
While on my face is the track of a tear.

‘cause I didn’t want to see your face.
And I didn’t want to hear your voice.
I  didn’t want to know you miss me,
I didn’t want to have to make this choice.

I was just trying to get a buzz,
Something short of tipsy.
But you grabbed my hand,
Laced our fingers,
And told me that you missed me.

Like in the dead of night when I put one leg out into the brisk air because combined with your body heat,
The blanket is just too warm.
I feel exposed but hidden all the same.
Or when I push one sleeve up my arm, but keep the other hidden beneath the cloth because the evidence would smack you too hard in the face.
I don’t want you to feel the pain that I’ve kept hidden.
I feel shielded, but barely; behind a veil that is trying to reveal the hurt I’m sheltering because you were just too naïve to believe I’d sank that low.
The ocean pulls the anchor from the ship and gravity helps.
I can’t see the bottom, but I know I’m close.

There’s a line of people,
Ready to say their goodbyes.
Whispering silent farewells.
Standing in the aisle.
Some will see you again soon.
But for others,
It’ll be a little longer while.

Sleepless nights,
And endless tears,
While you’re just fine.
In that new place you’re in.

Say a prayer,
You’re no longer suffering.
All of us will carry on.
Say goodbye, one last time,
To your love.

Take the happiness,
I’d rather let you have it.
And close the casket.

They say suicide is selfish.
Maybe it is.
They say you go to Hell.
Maybe you do.
They say you can get help.
Maybe you can.
They say, everything will get better.
Maybe it will.
They say you can get through it.
Maybe you can’t.
They say, life’s not that bad.
Maybe they don’t really know.
Maybe words are easier said than done.
Do they say that?