I don't always know how to be there for you
I look at you
I wonder where to start

How to begin comforting?
When to begin holding?
Where to begin speaking at all?

This is when my silence begins to feel less like understanding and more like dread
Like a steaming whistle from the boiling thoughts in my head

I try to remember words said before
Only to realize if they had worked
We would not be here again