She is encased in a stone cold
hard snow
prison,
not unwilling
but unable to see
any reality
where life can be better
then the blank canvass
of agony and suffering.

Each day an unrelenting onslaught
of recurring nightmares
that point to a future
with very few
points of light
breaking through.

Razor sharp
scar tissue heart
that will not heal
properly;

She speaks poetically,
bends my heart
in empathy
edging me to tears
when she recites
the past prose
of her traumatized life.

No god,
no meaning,
no reason,
explaining
to loved ones
who cannot comprehend
that this busted up brain
will not find a way to mend,
nor make truths more comforting.

It is not selfish
because it does not seek this
in search of greed or gain,
just pushes on in hopes
of the cessation of pain.

I listen intently,
hear her honesty
whisper softly
that I am here
when you need me.

But her pain breaks me
sees stitches from similar
spirit cutting surgeries
splits my satin skin
as all my stuffing
spills out again.

I know those doubts
how the road goes on
for far too long
into the dullest days,

cement to concrete
cracked and gaping
causing a lot of vibrating,
taking all the serenity
I struggled to attain.

Dusk advances
into to darkness
and the phoenix fire
of light that inspires
other people
never rises
to her skies
never deigns
to brighten her life.

In love we see
better days ahead,
but in physical
and emotional fatigue
all she sees
is late night repeats,
reruns
of relationship
conspiracies
with misery
and misery
and misery.

I offer my love
hoping that
I am not intruding
where my feelings
are not welcome.

I offer her my love
hoping that
it does not hinder
her trust
and she opens up
as much
as she needs to.

I give her my ear
and hope
that my voices
is enough
to lure her away
from the ledge
just one more day,
then one more day,
then one more day.