scared

you looked at me with an expression i can't characterize. i don't even know what the name for that emotion would be, or even if it has a name at all. the whole thing only lasted eight hours, four of which were spent sleeping, but the destruction was nearly complete. your eyes still haunt me, shake me to my core. i didn't realize i could have that kind of power over you, demonstrate the risks of opening your heart in such a stark manner as i have tonight. but you let me in, and now you see exactly what that means. you see the fractures i've tried so hard to conceal from you. you see the bottom, clear as day, even in the dark of night. and you're scared.

what do you fear? you tell me, i don't want you to feel this way ever again. i don't want you to ever want to do this again. you ask me what i need, what i want; what can i do? any idea? anything i can do, i will. and most poignantly: you're scaring me. you never confess fear. you're strong, untouchable. you never show me your vulnerabilities... until i push you to the breaking point.

the break nearly came in front of me, your inability to change it, to fix it, to make it better. i can't stand the thought of what this does to you. so i'm going to handle it. i'm going to fix this. i'm going to make this go away. you always tell me to lean on you, to use you to soothe myself when i need to. but when i'm this broken, this bruised and bloodied, the reality of what you invite me to do becomes sharply, harrowingly clear, doesn't it?

you're my strength. you always have been, you always will be. but have i finally seen the limit of how strong you can be?