Love.

It's not that difficult to
see the scars on your body,
the ones that changed you into
somebody I know and love,
to see the lines on your face
calling out the ghosts of your
smiles and frowns.

It's not that difficult to
remember that you are soul,
flesh and blood, but since
your voice carries steel and
your mind holds a burning power
bigger than this universe will
ever know, it's hard to remember
that you hurt, that you always hurt.

It's hard to know if you can
hold this much inside yourself,
I know you feel it all and see
everything, but I like to pretend
all you've known is happiness and
dreams, not the sadness and pain
that printed out your life onto a
once blank page.

How do you still trust?
How can you still love?
How do you still hope?
How can you still forgive?

I know that you contour your
freedom to make it so everyone's
happy, but how much longer
until you don't recognize the
feel of air, of light on your skin?
You have been chained down by love,
and the fire burning inside you
is dying out.

Bearing witness to such tragedies
leads to the resonance of pain
never known, pain masked by something
else entirely too small to fit
into a conversation, let alone
someone's life. I cringe as I hear
you talk, your burdens weight
down on my every nerve, and I can't
help but wonder how you walk with
your head held high.

An eternal wonder that won't end,
this path you didn't choose and once
tried to cut off those once blank
pages, won't let me sleep at night,
I'm forever bound to think of what you
have and what you desperately deserve.
I am chained down by love, and one
day will come when we're close to being
equals, around burned out flames and
distant dreams.