Feelings On Paper

This Morning [forgotten]

This morning I awoke beside you,
your arms tangled up in the sheets,
mouth agape as soft whistles escaped.

I remembered why I fell in love with you—
And also that it was too early to try and wake you.

I realize my sadness from the other day still lingers,
so I try to cheer myself up with your writing,
the words that always bring a smile upon my face.

Since the last time I read them,
you had written new ones.

My sadness was of stress and grief,
the excitement to read new words of love,
eased a bit of that mindset.

But alas,
your new words weren't of love.

The words were wishful of being better,
as if you really thought you weren't good enough,
phrases spilling sadness of your own that broke my heart.

Had I not been reassuring enough?

Had I not been loving enough?

Had I not been caring enough?

Looking at your sleeping figure,
the sadness from before just piled onto heartbreak—
knowing the one I love is in pain hurt more than anything else.

So I sat up,
trying to control my breath,
trying not to cry.

Guilt overtook me because you wished to forget,
you wished to be different,
you wished to get rid of my own pain,
while you struggled with your own.

I had been so focused on my own struggle,
I forgot to ask if you were okay.

Had I really not been enough?

And in the midst of trying not to awake you,
your godly senses kicked in and you awoke,
embracing me in warmth and care.

The stress of everything,
time,
money,
myself,
and death—
it had caused me to forget and the guilt made it worse.

You shushed my cries,
and told me everything was okay,
you caressed my skin,
and told me you loved me.

When I tried to apologize for my sudden breakdown,
you'd shush me away with a kiss and told me it was okay.

But it wasn't.

Again,
my feelings were above yours,
and I couldn't ask if you were okay.

This morning your silent suffering broke my heart.