His Letter To Her

Are you okay?

I wonder at times.

It seems to be that all my comforting words slash a deeper gash in your heart.

Having this unhinged explosion madness in your head.

You say I don’t care because I don’t touch you,

then say I care too much when my fingers dip themselves in the dampness of your hair.

I know it’s just the nightmares clouding up your judgment towards my neutral behavior,

but it’s midnight tonight and I can hear you crying.

I reach for your cheek.

You pull back.

then,

you apologize with shame.

The contact of skin on skin makes your stomach churn and flesh hurt.

You feel so pathetic,

you didn’t even look me in the eyes when you said it.

A wave of tears spill from your glistening eyes

down your unblemish cheeks.

I drift my hands down your waist and grip them as I sit you on my lap and hide my face in your scarred skin.

I feel your muscles tighten from my ministrations,

and I’m grateful when your thin fingers get lost in my own tangles of hair.

I don’t know what to do anymore.

I don’t know how to help you.

The noises you made have died down,

and I realized you had fallen asleep when you’ve lied down.

Without explanations about the troubles your mind was going through,

I took it to consideration to let it go.

You will never speak on the past.  

and at times,

I feel like the fault is mine for never having the mindset to ask.

But I wonder at times.

I wonder all of the time.

Are you okay?