Poetry

Him

(Really quick - this one isn't really poetry,,, just kinda was thinking a lot and ended up with this... mess. Sorry.)

It's been years. Honestly, I'm actually not sure how long it's been, I just wanted to be dramatic. I'll stop now.

I wish I could say it hurts less. It doesn't. It hasn't hurt any less for 2 years, I just found ways to numb the pain. But it's cutting deeper than ever. The second time in my life. The first time was seventh-ninth grade. He remembered.

He would've known what to say, to soothe my hurt. Did I love him? Yeah, I did. A lot. Was I in love with him? No, I believe not. People don't understand the line between those two things.

He was really great yknow? He always knew what to say, what to do... He was my favorite of them all. But now he's gone.

And I blame myself. I should've seen the signs. I should've helped more. Maybe he'd still be here. I was too obsessed with my own self hurt to see his pain. I should've seen his pain.

I wonder how he went to be honest.

I wonder if he's still alive, just hiding. Hiding from a past that was only pain and numb. Hiding from me.

Ah, I'm getting selfish again.

What I wouldn't give to see him. Truly see him, happy and laughing. It was so rare for him to smile. I wanted him to smile. He deserved to smile... and he didn't believe that.

He was worse off than I was. He was so quiet about it too, not wanting to deepen my problems. If only he knew how much he worried me... before it was too late.

I hope he's out there somewhere, with a forgotten number, a lost password, a dead memory. I wonder if he ever remembers me. I wonder if he misses me. I hope not. If given the chance to know he was out there... I don't think I'd take it. Hope hurts, but truth is worse.

I wish I had taken the risk, spent the money. I wish I had helped him. I could've done so much more.

One day I'll do everything he promised. I'll hug myself, I'll protect myself, I'll do everything he wanted... except forgive myself.

~

It's been a year. I've been to all the places we spoke about. All the places we planned out... just three more years.

Three years was too long. We both knew it. It was a stupid dream.

Yet here I am, three years later, waiting...

I checked everywhere. I know he's not coming. He's moved on... or he's dead. He said he was done. He said the rope was tied.

I hope he moved on. He deserved better. I hope he got better.

I collapse to the ground. What's the point? He's gone. I need to move on now.

My pulse slows with each puff. A drugged calmness flows through my veins, tugging at my breath.

The shadows turn into all of them. Laughing, pointing. My only friends weren't real. Not after him. My trust was broken.

Another puff. The laughter disappears. Instead there's running. Sprinting, screaming. I smile. I always wanted to win the race.

~

Maybe he did show up.
Maybe he did remember.
Maybe my pain was worse than we thought.
But he came in and saved me.
Again.
Even when his heart was covered with cracks.
And one singular band aid.

I want to help him. I want to soothe his pain.

But I want to win the race. God, he doesn't deserve to win the race.

Please, let him stay behind instead.