“I know the words I want to say.
I’ve been screaming them inside my head:
I love you. I love you.”
Sometimes, I know that something needs to be said. It nags at me like a thorn in my ribcage and sticks to the back of my throat like molasses. I know the words I want to say. I know them, because I’ve been screaming them inside my head for days or even weeks. These things that have changed, it’s not okay. Even though you say the opposite. It’s not okay to be broken. To let you bear the weight of everything but the demons I can’t vanquish. It’s not okay to be stuck in silence. To stand behind walls that seemed to rise out of the ground the instant the darkness was released. It’s not okay that I can’t seem to break free. Even though none of it was my fault, I can’t help but wonder how things could be different — if this darkness never became part of your life. But you chose to stay. How can words possibly convey what I feel? I love you. I love you. But that doesn’t even begin to cover what it really means to me.
© Sarah Doughty
I love you
and all that you are.
For now, that’ll have
to be enough.