He looks up at me with fragility,
his panic an unseeable mask from
reality.
I have lost him to his past.
I cannot fix this,
cannot change this,
but I'll try.

I'll try to make it bearable,
For him,
because I love him,
and that's what loved ones do.

"Is there anything I can do?"
I murmur, lighting treading
my words into the forest of his brain.
I shall remain here till I can find him
once again.

"No"
His face so weary with defeat
stares down at the floor, and at his
feet. In these moments I see him
weak.
Alone.
Like me, but not.
The Child the Parents forgot.

"Would you like me to leave?"
I stroke his hair, an involuntary
gesture, used almost to assure
myself that he is still here
with me.
At least in body.

"No"
The voice reaches out to me,
and speaks of beatings,
loneliness,
and pain. I watch the stains
drain him, so engrained in him,
it's hard to watch.
I want to wash his mind,
to find a piece of light to
curl between his fingers
and make
him cling to
tight.

I want to make it right.

And so I wait. Cast a breadcrumb
trail of bait, and will him
back to me.
Patient, and understanding,
holding and
hoping to travel an
embrace into the past,
and raft my love
to freedom.

Come back to me
Please

I don't like it when you leave me

Time always has an echo.