I want to carry you,
Pick you up when you are down, beaten to the ground
With nothing left in you but rage, sorrow, and pain.
I want to wrap you in my arms,
Wrap you so tight,
Squeeze this melancholy out of our lives.
I want to tell you, “It’s okay”
Even though I know it’s not.
But I can’t utter these words,
They will not roll off my tongue and through my dry, cracked lips.
They are stuck, lodged, deep in my throat.
Choking me.
Failing me.
And even worse--failing you.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
I want to carry you,
Pick you up when you are down, beaten to the ground
With nothing left in you but rage, sorrow, and pain.
I want to wrap you in my arms,
Wrap you so tight,
Squeeze this melancholy out of our lives.
I want to tell you, “It’s okay”
Even though I know it’s not.
But I can’t utter these words,
They will not roll off my tongue and through my dry, cracked lips.
They are stuck, lodged, deep in my throat.
Choking me.
Failing me.
And even worse--failing you.
