It Is
It is a quiet pain,
clouding your clear blue eyes with fear,
resentment,
love,
and disappointment.
It is a not so gentle loathing
of your reflection that plagues
your thoughts,
your feelings,
and your actions.
It is a spoken mistrust of your
peers, and even less so of
yourself,
that has led to the bright red
lines that adorn your freckled wrists.
Alone, you do not dream well.
It is the occurrence of your smile that
captivates me,
a beautiful rarity that I feel blessed
to be reason of.
Your dreams are an essence of my
fulfilment,
a quiet resolution to rid the tears from
your saddened eyes.
It is tomorrow that we yearn for,
and tomorrows children for which
we strive,
the grains of each day's hours
slipping slowly down,
marking the not so steady road
toward your wellness.
It is anything I would give,
to show you what I see in you.
It is with each day that I hold on
to hope,
a quiet belief that with each morning,
you will be closer to understanding me,
and further from the monster that hides
inside your head.
It is with every smile that I know I will not
give in.
It is with every crack in your resolve
that I grow stronger,
knowing that each step backward
is the potential for three forward strides,
hardening my desire to show you what
I see.
One day I will hold you,
and feel that we have made it past
the line of broken hearts,
and into the glowing sun.
It is with every with every glance
of love and trust,
that I know you will not relinquish your
hopeful grasp upon me.
And at the end of each day,
it is the feeling your warm body
pressed against mine
That tells me you will be okay.