They are the only ones that speak to me. I am the only one who crys with them. Five beautiful words that say nothing and mean everything. Five that mend what has been broken. Five foreign syllables that tear into my emotions. All around me they echo, but nobody else seems to hear them.
Their power is soothing. They send their gentle message into the soul. Their meaning grabs at shards of a broken spirit and begin to pull the pieces together again. This is how they heal.
Let one word go missing, they’d lose the hope and light that they offered and all that remains is a whisper. Whisper, whisper, whisper they say as the tears roll down my cheeks. They care.
When I am too broken to get up again, when I am too battered and bruised to heal, then I hear the words. When everything falls and turns to rubble around me. Five who broke through the soundless darkness. Five who embrace what seemed to go numb. Five whose only reason is to stitch up a life riddled with holes.