You

To this day I still scold myself for not being able to tell you my true feelings. If there had ever been a time to be honest with you, one hundred per cent honest, then it would have been then. But you sat there looking so brow beaten and broken that my words died in my throat. It is only now I allow myself to voice my realisation that you’re elusiveness was enabled by my fear that any truth too hard to handle would send you running. I was so afraid you would run from me that I fashioned you a cage out of placations and half-truths. I did you a disservice. I treated you like a child.

Yet you never proved me wrong. Your emotions were as changeable as the weather, your convictions never concrete and your moral compass demagnetised. You only ever did what was best for you and I was so busy trying to hold on to you that I let you do whatever you wanted no matter the consequence. No matter how it made me feel. I lived out those years with you on a tightrope only able to breathe easy when you laid asleep in my arms. The only example of consistency you ever demonstrated was when you were unconscious.

Being with you was as exhausting as it was enchanting.