I’d be lying if I said that I was fine.

I lie every day.

So instead I ask how are you?

Is everything ok?

I try to read between every line.

To piece together every hidden crack.

Taking off my own bandaids.

To replace them on you.

And I’m left to bleed.

A colorful hurt.

of forgotten memories.

Finally turned grey.

How can I be there for you?

Without wounding me.