[i prostrated at the altar i had built in care of you. it held strong as i was weak.] -unknown

you cut through the noise

if i could look at your body, and witness your aura, in its shades of blue, and striking crimson, i would see the gnarl of black that sits in the pit of your stomach, and its tendrils reaching through your chest.

if you would let me, i would train my knife-hand. i would learn to steady it for years, practicing on mannequins, and on fish.

i could gently rest the blade on your skin, to open you. i would reach in, to grab the infected sphere, and lacerate the connections that seep into your heart. my eyes would be dim, the emotion trained out of them, as i perform the rhythmic motions i studied for so long, to heal you.

i think you saw me crying.

you advised me, in the manner of an older brother, unprompted, but with care. you struck me as pure, in a way that i do not often see.

i almost couldn’t believe what i was hearing.

i don’t know how you could tell that i wanted to touch you, but you let me in, however briefly. i fell victim to the urge to squeeze.

there are things we can’t change. we might spend years raging against them, in a vain dispair. this turmoil congeals into a pain that becomes so familiar it can fall unnoticed, until a reminder passes into view. these reminders renew it, old wounds, waiting to reopen.

i cannot feel yours as you feel them, but i feel yours as i feel my own. i hear the tremble in your voice, and it echoes a thousand times in me. i want to rest my palms on yours, and still your quivering. i know that it isn’t my place.

if i could come to you, unknown, and aid you, i would. if you would forget me as soon as i go, i would still leave when my time comes. to know that you have experienced ease is enough. to know that your rest is fitless, and that you dream of a softer world is enough.

i cannot tell you any of this.

i cannot make myself understood.

there are barriers between people, and words often serve only to mislead.

i cannot make myself understood.

i am not out to “get” something from you. i cannot lie and say there is nothing for which i wish, but i would not take it without joint desire.

it would not be a feather in my cap.

i cannot make myself clear.

for you, i simply care.