Will loving him repair his broken heart?
Will kind words heal wounds inflicted?
Will patience show him he is worth waiting for?
Will forgiveness show him
That he can look forward now, and not back?
Can X's and O's fill
the crevices and canyons of his soul?
He cannot find liquor strong enough,
nor painkillers numbing enough,
no cut deep enough,
or risky behaviours risky enough to mask his pain
He says "it happens"
she shrugs as he tells you
the pieces of his puzzle he'd rather forget
Never sheds a tear,
but you can see him shake when he has to
"be a man" at 16
six schools, four years, no one he can count on
"I'm the one he comes to" she says
"When his mind is not with him,
when he drink or the drug sweeps his thoughts away
like a forceful wind,
his subconscious longs for me"
He calls her late into the night,
his voice a mumble
and his words nonsense
She speaks to him softly, comfortingly,
until she can hear his gentle snoring.
Then she cries herself to sleep,
because she's not sure if he'll ever be better
or if he'll ever say " I love you"
without alcohol as his wingman
Or be able to make it through the day without
a sip
a puff
a cut
And she can't help but wonder: is loving him enough?
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
Will loving him repair his broken heart?
Will kind words heal wounds inflicted?
Will patience show him he is worth waiting for?
Will forgiveness show him
That he can look forward now, and not back?
Can X's and O's fill
the crevices and canyons of his soul?
He cannot find liquor strong enough,
nor painkillers numbing enough,
no cut deep enough,
or risky behaviours risky enough to mask his pain
He says "it happens"
she shrugs as he tells you
the pieces of his puzzle he'd rather forget
Never sheds a tear,
but you can see him shake when he has to
"be a man" at 16
six schools, four years, no one he can count on
"I'm the one he comes to" she says
"When his mind is not with him,
when he drink or the drug sweeps his thoughts away
like a forceful wind,
his subconscious longs for me"
He calls her late into the night,
his voice a mumble
and his words nonsense
She speaks to him softly, comfortingly,
until she can hear his gentle snoring.
Then she cries herself to sleep,
because she's not sure if he'll ever be better
or if he'll ever say " I love you"
without alcohol as his wingman
Or be able to make it through the day without
a sip
a puff
a cut
And she can't help but wonder: is loving him enough?
