What I Can’t Say

You manipulative little cunt.
How fucking dare you!
You get to do whatever the hell you want
And everyone is expected to tip toe around you.
Always too scared of setting you off.
You’re not right, you can’t help a lot of it.
I fucken get that!
I’m no monster.
Buy some of it is you just being a cunt.
On purpose.
You know exactly how your shit plays out and you get some twisted satisfaction from pushing the buttons.
Fucken stop!
Just fucken stop it.
There’s going to be mad days.
We know that.
We’re trying to get you help with that.
We’re trying to get help for us so we can cope with you.
We can’t fucken cope either.
You fucken know that.
Bt there’s far more good times.
But you fuck then up sometimes for your own amusement.
That’s tearing me up.
And us apart.
If you can’t make the most of the good times
They start to blend into the bad times.
I love you but I don’t know how to cope with you.
I know you don’t either.
But I know you can do more,
Or, at times, less.
To help us to help you.
I’m losing control
Losing my grip.
I’m trying not to let go.
But too often you make it feel like the better option.
I hate the situation.
I hate my inability to cope.
I don’t like how you make me react.
Or feel.
Right now I feel like I’m a worse person for having you in my life.
And you’re worse off having me around.
That shit scares me to feel.
But I can’t not feel.
Although that’s exactly what I need right now.
To be numb.

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Your Anchor

The last thing you need is for me to make this about me, however, the nurturer in me is being drawn out. I have an overwhelming desire to lock ourselves away, wrap my strong arms around you tightly so you can allow your emotions to wash over you, the tears to flow from you. Feel all that you need to feel, let it consume you. Knowing that I’m there, holding you quietly, securely, your safe place. Your anchor.

Then you can purge it all, emerging stronger, back in control, happier, healthier. Your gorgeous, cheeky smile no longer a mask to hide behind, instead a stunning reflection of your beautiful soul.

I long to give you that gift, an extension of my friendship. Knowing it’s something you need, that I’m in no position to offer, saddens me. I can help, it’s what I do best, it’s what I need to do, my purpose. I struggle through a quagmire of “if only’s”, with you on the other side, silently calling my name.

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Hot and Cold

Random touches
Your warmth returns
Briefly
But welcomed
Yearned for
For so long
Yet so quickly you retreat
Your eyes flicker
With glimpses of a sparkle
Dimmed for too long
Yet still those eyes
Cannot meet mine
Your mouth speaks at me
Rapidly
From your voice box
Not your head
Not your heart
Speaking lots
Saying little
Your mind
Your body
Your eyes
Still silent
So closed off
So hot and cold

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Filled with Emptiness

Dark-Empty-Room

A heart full of love
A head devoid of dreams
Neither knowing what they want
Only what they don’t
Crushed under the weight of expectations
So many of them my own
But not all
More than half a life spent
Always there for others
A sympathetic ear
A consoling hug
A smile, a laugh
Compassion
Perspective
The voice of reason
A rock
For family
For friends
For colleagues
For strangers who became friends
It’s always flowed freely
Always been who I am
Effortlessly, selflessly
But now, at the biggest crossroads I’ve faced
Where is all that?
The flow has stopped, blocked
I look inside myself searching for it
All I find is a darkened room full of closed doors
Behind each door a bulging mess waiting to spill out as each door is opened
Faults, failings, mistakes, regrets, fears, anger, resentment, contempt, loathing, despair
But the scariest room of all, the biggest one
Packed to bursting with just one thing
Emptiness

A Cacophony of Silence

What do I deserve?
Who has that say?
What do I get?
Where do I get it?
Do I ask for it?
Do I take it?
How much is for me?
How much am I worth?
How is that measured?
Who measures it?
Who checks the measurements?
There’s a gulf between selfless and selfish, but what’s the middle ground?
Where do I stand?
Where do I end and we start?
How much of me is in us?
What’s important?
What’s not?
How do I pick my battles?
Who gets to win?
Even if I win, have I then lost? You? Me? Us? Or parts of any or all?
Why am i fighting battles?
Who’s on my side?
Why are we picking sides?