You spilled your stomach into the toilet
at a quarter to four in the morning
I sat on the floor behind you and
rubbed your back

You slurred your words into
the air that hung above us

"How come you're not drunk?"
you said

I laughed lightly

And wondered how
I could explain
to a mentally stable teenager
with a normal amount
of hope
and a normal amount
of rage
the difference between
throwing up from drinking too much
and throwing up from thinking too much

I just said

"Don't worry. I'm sick too.
But I'm always here for you"

And you fell asleep in my arms

I'm sorry that I never told you
I didn't have a single sip that night,
I'm sorry that I never told you
how sick I really was
... and how it didn't go away
in the morning with some
coffee and a water

I'm sorry that I lied and said
"All better"
with scars in my skin
and pain in my skull