Sometimes
you
get used
too much,
and you
confuse bloodstains
for watermarks.
It’d be easier
to pretend like
nothing’s happening,
rather than admitting
that, deep down,
You were hurting.
And you were always hurting.
One minute
everything’s going fine
and the next
you’re breaking down;
tears flowing from your eyes
uncontrollable,
unbearable,
unyielding.
You
look me straight
in the eye,
and I knew
the words
even as
they caught in your lungs,
“Am I okay?”
I shook my head
and said not a word,
as you leaned in close.
In the silence,
I wondered:
Who was consoling whom?
If I close these eyes,
it would feel like
all of those other nights,
or perhaps,
this was still the same night.
And all the heartache,
and truth,
and yearning,
were seeking moonlight
once again.

-D.C.