When Words Aren't Enough

I know that look.

The emptiness in your eyes,
the way your voice wavers,
a guitar string tuned too high,
about to break.

I was there once.

You tell me you’re tired,
the kind of tired
that pulls you under,
like an ocean wave,
and holds you there.
You can't breathe.
You don't want to.

I know where this path leads.

I want to tell you
that you matter,
that you are loved,
that you are more than what happened to you.
But the words feel too small,
too thin to hold you.

I can’t stop this.

I want to fix it,
to reach inside
and take the weight
you carry in silence.
But I can’t.
And it breaks me
because I know
what you're thinking.

Please don't.

So I sit with you,
my presence the only thing
I know how to give.
It’s not enough.

But I hope somehow
you feel it,

and it keeps you here.