Every halfway

“When will this world finally be straightened out a little? I wander around with a burned-out head by day—there are such beautiful ruins in the mountains here, they make me think I have to become that beautiful myself— but once in bed instead of sleep I have the best ideas” - Franz Kafka

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Even the night comes to an end someday.

But what will be the price I pay?

When morning breaks across your skin,

Will she still sleep where I should have been?

I trace the echo of your name,

Half in longing, half in shame.

I want to know this really happened.

Can you tell me why my chest tightened?

You call me soft, a quiet storm,

I call you home, though not my own.

Your words make ghosts of all my fears.

Yet love like ours dissolves in tears.

My senses fade where you have been,

The air still hums of your picture perfect skin.

Have I made you proud, or am I just a sin that you bury deep within?

You say you love her, but love me too.

Why can both of these be true?

Am I your shadow or your flame,

The secret you’ll never name?

I never not think of you.

Even when silence feels overdue.

Each breath I take is half a prayer,

Half a plea for you to care.

Has my soul died in your arms?

No, it lingers, charmed.

All I can remember are sparks,

Blazing fire in our hidden darks.

If she is your day, I’ll be your night,

The half that aches, the half that’s right.

And though you’ll never fully stay,

I’d still choose you.

Every halfway,

Every almost,

Every ache that doesn’t fade away.