There is nothing more honest than a phone call at 3 a.m
Here we are in our separate houses but the only home I've ever known is with you
You tell me about all of the problems you've been having
I, offer only a comforting silence, you told me once that you wanted a good listener.
So I stopped speaking.
Before I met you, I juggled my own problems, but you see
I didn't have any room for more, so, when you came along I dropped my own.
Now my problems are shattered like Christmas ornaments all around my feet and I cannot move or I will open wounds that are better left sewn shut.
when I had sewn my wounds, I stitched my mouth shut as well so that I would never interrupt you.
But that silence instilled in me by you is engulfing me because the only sound I hear is of your bad day and when you're done with telling me about that you leave and don't return until there's another problem
I, I tug at the strings that are holding my silence, waiting for them to break, waiting for the day I get to tell you about my problems. because when you put yours on my shoulder I took them happily and never asked for you to do the same for me.
I secretly dread the day when you are happy.
because that is the day where I become irrelevant.
you have taken my voice.
my cry for help, can not be heard.