Last summer I thought I kissed
the doubts right from your chapped lips.
I could have sworn I did,
but tonight you rolled over in bed
to face the wall, curling up into yourself
like a child.
You told (the wall),
that there’s this tangled mess inside your stomach,
inside your mind,
that nothing is as it was.

I never know how to respond,
even with my history.
“It will get better, I’m here”
do nothing to ease your racing thoughts.

And you were gone, just like that.
You left the light on,
but you were nowhere to be found.
Just a body laying beside me, the warmth
not enough to make me believe you were
truly there.
Your eyes were foggy,
even though my light burned strong in the house by the bay,
waiting for you to find your way back to me.

I couldn’t do anything but curl up into the
arch of your back,
and wait until the storm had passed.

And even now,
I can only comfort you with silence,
trying to communicate with a single touch,
“It’s okay;
Please come back to me when you can.”