one day
it will be easier for you to fall asleep
but tonight
its three fifty eight and you are wide awake
even though your eyes are washed with tears
and your heart is numb from pain

one day
you will see the light at the end of the tunnel
at the end of the tunnel
but tonight
you are freefallng
p l u n g i n g
and you're scared because
you can't see your outstretched fingers
and there is nothing to hold on to

one day
you will no longer need to stitch yourself together
as you watch yourself fall apart by the seams
but tonight
you are in tears (again)
and no one is here
to wipe them away
because the numbers you dialled
sent you to voicemail

and maybe
one day
you will be happy again
but its been at least nine months
and the clean slits on your left fist is barely visible
you are at least nine months clean
but you are not okay
you have not been okay
and you're scared shitless because
there are some things that love cannot fix
and this happens to be one of them

but strength, cannot be measured in a protractor
because you are not just a page in my mathematics textbook
hidden in a mess of my room
and perhaps,
you are weak in the strongest sense
because you still care for the ones that
drove the knife against your skin
just as you are strong in the weakest sense
because its four in the morning and no one has returned your call
and you can't seem to stop your angry tears
but you don't reach for the knife
or for the bleach at the kitchen counter
or for the alcohol

and one day,
the pain you carved unto your arms
will one day adorn your skies like constellations because the stars will guide you home

even though its not tonight
or twenty nights from now
or twenty years from now