I wanted to be perfect
before I understood.
I wanted to be
everywhere
at once
so I could fill the empty
of whoever needed it most.
As I grew older,
noticed my patterns and reactions,
I wondered
if my subconscious
was making up
for Someone’s short comings.
I lived two lives.
Like, somehow, if I could do twice
as much work, twice
as hard; achieve twice
as many things,
I could successfully replace
the hole
Someone
left inside of everyone.
Even though I knew
I’d never be enough,
I still tried.
Because when
Someone
is so lost to you
you lay awake at night,
listen to every sad song,
wonder if you’ll ever see
Someone
again or if this is it,
how can you not try?
When you love
Someone
so much their absence
leaves an ache
and all the wrongs
still equal a right.
When you’ve cried all your tears
and you couldn’t possibly go on;
exhaustion pulls at every muscle;
you haven’t slept in days.
When is enough, enough?
Never?
Would death be better?
Your heart breaks
once.
Permanently.
The emptiness merges with your soul.
You learn to live with the hole.
Because when
Someone
is alive you
hope.
The life giver.
Hope,
the life killer.
Hope will break your heart
every time, because
Someone
is lost
and
maybe there is no hope.
Hope says,
There’s still life in
Someone’s
Bones. There’s still
hope
Someone
won’t die. There’s still
hope
Someone
will get better. There’s still
hope
Someone
will come home.
Hope says,
Things can change.
When they don’t,
you break a little more,
and a little more,
and a little more,
until you’re clinging
to the last sliver.
Until you’ve given
everything you have.
Until you’re left thinking,
‘I’m not good enough.’
All you wanted
was to be good enough.
How could you not be enough?
After everything you’ve done,
How can
Someone
still not see?
How can they still not see
me?
Tempest in a Teacup 