The truth that I tell you is this: I got out of bed. Which took only a moment. Unless you really want to know. Want to know the weight of the metal chains that tug when I force my body from its only reprieve. A reprieve that is lost, to the abyss and to the twisted version of my life that runs through my dreams. Maybe I would tell you what it’s like to look around and realize that I’m still alive....

My voice wouldn’t work. I’d thought about bringing it up so many times before, but actually doing it would make it all real. And I didn’t know what I would do if… he gave me the truth. I know the darkness that falls over his face when he thinks no one is watching, because it’s the same darkness that chokes me tighter every day. Maybe a different shade; the kind bred from a pit of grief. But darkne...

I am but a puzzle

Broken apart before the lid was lifted

By unknowing hands

For years the wrong parts

Forced unto each other

Jammed into ideas of the image on the box

Always undone or forcibly bent

The empty gaps lost beneath the table

Desperately destroyed

And redone

And destroyed once again

The ticking of the clock begins to fade

And the hands are older

Fingers maybe stronger

But it is not was...

Maybe the best thing about him is that I don’t feel like I need to try around him. I don’t need to force words out of my mouth, or over analyze his reaction to what does make it out. I mean I’ll overthink things regardless, but it’s just… alright to overthink around him. Because he knows that I’m always doing it. And he doesn’t judge me for it. At least based on the number of times he’s said that,...