It's too much for me. And it's never enough.
I erase everything that I can, for now. For just a few blissful moments, I banish to the underworld every feeling that I have. The only medicine I shall take is the smallest dosage of relief, and the only sensation I'll allow myself is the part of me that screams "I need". And the child's voice from deep within still whispering, "I believe." I will be happy for a moment, swaddled like a newborn in your arms. I will see your gaunt face, bloodless, drained of color and all charms. I will mock the faux wings I have grown and every love song I have known. I will ask myself, without remorse, "Am I doing more good or harm?"
I was a dangerous angel from the start, tangled up in my own barbed wire heart. I press myself against your side, try to fit like a puzzle piece all our ugly, mismatched parts. You will not wake, so I will weep, as you lie oblivious, asleep. I will grieve, as every time before, without knowing what or who I'm grieving for. As if it matters anymore.
Then I will place my hand in yours, and I will wish, despite the fact that I will know it is a lie, that you and I will both be safe, that soon we shall feel alive again. We'll feel the way we used to feel. We'll take this butchered fantasy and make it something real. You are shaking like a winter leaf in the wind. I will save us, if anyone ever gets saved.
I don't know. I don't know what to say.
Another nightfall. Another sunrise.
God, make it stop hurting this way.
© Chase Allen
