You are so fragile, sometimes I don't know how to hold you. I want to be a soft place for you in a hard world, but sometimes I find myself craggy, a beach of broken glass + pebbles instead of sand. You don't deserve to wash up here.
When I feel lost + broken, I pull away to spare you, but it apparently just makes things worse. We both fall backwards into silence + despair.
I want you to reach for me, but I've lost you too, now we're both gone. How many times this has happened, how we talk it out, but begin again.
I'm afraid that we're too broken to not break each other.
Or I'm a bird, and you're a fish, and air + water will never mix.
Like you can never hear the bug + cricket song, sometimes I feel like you
can't hear me. Like nothing I say will settle. How can I make
you hear me with a shell to your ear, and dreams of having fins
in the ocean, when all I can offer you is a craggy windy brutal beach.
How I try to make you happy but I only make you cry.
How you're longing for the ocean but I can only give you sky.
