What Am I To You?

You're telling me that you'll always be here. That you've always been here. But you disappear. You move from place to place. Person to person. You leave me behind, sitting in the dust, saying these lies like lullibies just to make me feel as if you really care.

 

You're telling me that you'll always stick up for me. That you've always stuck up for me. But you turn your head. You smile at everyone and back down. When it's me or them, best go to them. "Don't cause waves" is your safety phrase. Thing is, you don't see the waves you send crashing towards me. The waves that push me away from you. The waves that drown me and combine seamlessly with my salt water tears.

 

If what you do is defined by the word always, I have to wonder what "never" means to you.

 

If I wasn't always here, would you stop singing your lies and turn them into truths? Or would you still sing them as lies?

 

If there was the threat of you losing me, would you finally stick up for me? Or would you turn your head away once again?

 

The pages of all the story books these years have filled rest in my hands. Flames lick at my feet, and I am tempted to throw the papers into them. Maybe then I'd be happy. But chains bind my arms in this sad pose. I look over the hungry flames and know I could never do it. And I know this is probably the reason why you don't feel the need to be here for me, to stand up for me. You see me in this impossible situation and see no threat that I could possibly follow through with.

 

And that's what gives you the courage to treat me like you do. But one day these chains will no longer bind my arms in such a pose, and I'll finally feed the flames with the tear-stained pages of our past. Then you'll know what you lost. And that it was all your fault.