I’ve never really seen myself as anything more than this
someone broken, in need of repair.
I’ve never really believed that I would have any more than this
alone and aching and wishing that I was someone else.
I thought that I could be all the things that I never was
someone who someone needed, someone who was strong.
I thought that I could overcome
because someone believed in me.
Whether or not you did or didn’t
wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
You were never going to see me
any differently than I saw myself.
It’s been a year and in that year
I’ve ridden the roller coaster to here.
I’ve closed off and shut down and can only see
my face in this funhouse mirror.
I can vividly recall of the times that I silently turned
and covered up my scars.
And you never came looking because you were too busy
nursing all of your own.
We were too broken people trying to fill
the spaces in those empty rooms.
We should have turned around
that first morning on the road.
When springtime in the city came
and we packed up all our things.
We forgot that the crucial thing to hold
was each other instead of ourselves.
We pushed and pushed each day and each year
until we couldn’t see each other anymore.
I wonder if you can see yourself now
no part of me looks the same.