Remember when I first met you?
Fast forward three years, sitting on your living room couch.
I asked if you would remember me fifty years from then.
You said you may not remember my name or even my face,
But you could never forget what I meant to you.
Did you mean those words?
Or were they just another experiment?
Was I your friend or your first case study?
Do you remember talking me out of suicide?
Or picking me up out of that ditch?
There were so many times I wished you’d have left me.
I wanted so many times to be dead,
But you were always there.
My very own guardian angel I wanted to go away.
I wish I would have said so many things to you.
So many things I hid from you.
I’m sure you knew I kept my secrets,
But then again so did you.
I know you heard the stories
Of the nights I told you I was home in bed.
You had to of known I was sneaking out to numb the pain.
You were not blind to the marks of the needles
Or the bruises he left after I returned home.
But you let me go time and again.
Did you know I wasn’t ready?
That I couldn’t accept any help?
The help you so desperately wanted to give?
Could you see that I was ready to bolt,
That at the first sign of trouble, I’d be gone?
You said I always had an escape route.
That you didn’t know if I even wanted to be happy.
So why did you bother with me?
Why did you try to help the blonde party girl
With the abusive boyfriend and drug problem?
Was it really because you cared?
Or was I practice for your dream job?
I’m not sure why I’m bothering to ask now.
We never talk and we’re states apart.
I guess I’m curious if those fifty years will even matter.
Do you remember how I made you feel only five years later?
Or am I just another number on a manila folder?
Case studies to analyze, fix, and abandon?
Or was I important to you?
Because I can no longer tell….