In A Syllable

October 24, 2011
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I understand you.
I feel your pain.
I will always be here for you.

And now I can’t take it.
You matter so much to me.
But how do I know myself?
If I’m trying to know you?
I’m not blaming you. But
I can’t murder you sanity.
I’m supposed to keep it.
But now a sacrifice to be made.
My bliss with you alone in the unbearable despair?
Or both of us unglad - but at least together.
I don’t blame you.
I would die for you.
But do I live a dead life for you?
And so I kill my own sanity.
To save you.
So much at stake.
For a one-syllable word.

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