Stone

Most leave.
Most never notice
when doubt is devouring
your arteries. Most
carefully plan
their escape out of your
grandiose world.

You’d leave you too, if you could.
You’d look at your own
thoughts shrieking at
what’s left of your sanity,
you’d look one last time at all
the damage the past has done
to your heart,

and walk away
with no regret.

But for him, you’re exceptional.
For him, you’re unleavable,
you’re too victimized to be alone.
The universe has let you down,
so he won’t.
He’ll be your lamotrigine,
he’ll be the empty room inside of
which you want
to scream your fears out loud.

He’ll be the running water
to your fire, the music
to your trauma.

Most leave, as
he hugs you tighter.