I wince. Stifle a sigh.
Surely even over the phone you could hear my eyes close to cool the burn of incessant tears.
At this point, we both know an “I’m ok” is insufficient.
Matter of fact, a blatant lie.
Just days after you threaten to stop your own heart from beating.
You’ve always had this shoulder, these legs to hold you up, this heart to cry on. So why deny my hand so we can walk through hell together? Again. Why wait until you’re bursting, suffocating, drowning… and there are no arms long enough to pull you out?
So freely the L word flows when you’re ready to go, but no word on why. Why now? What’s wrong?
How many more conversations will start with evasion and end with denial? Should I stop asking how you’re doing, Liar? I care so I keep asking ..only to be stung. I don’t like being stung.
I wince. Silently sigh. Surely you can hear my eyes squeeze shut to cool the burn of incessant tears.
If you really wanted to end it all, you would have done it. No need to express your love for the last time. Make a liar out of me, Liar, and just do it. Let us find your body and weep for you.
But that’s not your style.
Instead you send out a warning shot to see who runs. Who proves they love you enough to make you want to give life another go.
But to answer you again, yes.
My selfish heart would ache for the loss of you. But it surely aches now for the fact that you know I can see through your masks of lies and lifeless smiles…
yet you continue to fix your lips to say “I’m ok.”
This piece was written with an old friend in mind who was contemplating suicide. I wrote it a few months ago, revised it a few hours ago + finally decided to share. These are just my honest words of love, frustration and helplessness inspired by this excerpt from Koko Boocro:
We hide behind the masks we wear from things we fear to acknowledge and reveal.