Wandering, Wondering

Sometimes, I can’t control it

I’m mad at you

For what you did;

For what you didn’t do;

For what you put me through.

Sometimes, I can’t stop it

I’m consumed

By the memories of you;

By the things you used to do;

By the lies I thought were the truth.

But most times,

I’m not upset at all:

I’m thankful;

I’m grateful;

You worry

Because you tremble

When you speak.

You worry

Because you fear

That it makes you weak.

You worry

About your actions

And their impact.

You worry

That you’re haunted

By the ghosts of your past.

You worry

About the future,

About everything and everyone.

You worry

You aren’t sufficient

I am listening

To every word you say.

I’m hanging from your syllables

Despite the silence that I crave.

I am listening

To the tone you use,

To the lack of affect,

To the words you choose.

I am listening

Because it’s all I can do:

There isn’t any back and forth