drops of champagne

ill hold you.

i want to hate you.
but i can't.
because all the memories
of nostalgia take me back to the little boy
that rests behind you, wanting to be loved.

i can't hate you.
even through you
burned a pit of ash within me
quite quickly,
you were still the teenage boy,
learning love the wrong way,
dying at the hands of pills,
for you to be
noticed in their sky.

i wish i could go back in time,
and hold your childhood self.
i'd hold your hand,
and whisper that it's okay
to be not okay.

that the tears can flow,
and i won't judge you.
then you'd cry,
cry,
and cry.
i'd hold you
until you
finally feel the first
embrace
of safety.

i'd even go back to when you were a teenager.
and i'd whisper that i love you,
while gently dragging a finger across
the top of your
hand as it's placed over mine.
showing you the simplest
pleasures of innocence.

even now i'd hold you.
until you felt
stability and the remembrance
of that comfort
of knowing the possibility
of knowing you can be loved.

i just hate that,
holding onto a last bit of doubt,
that burns from the shadows of
your mind when loving someone
new, is what changed you.

things would be different though
if you had ever came back.
as my walls are thicker than ice,
and my shadows casted,
i'll hold you
until we both finally experience
what we both deserved
in the first place.

-zmh