Do you sleep in Stockholm?

 What is in the hearts of those we love? 

Is there a reflection of how we feel? 

Is there faith and confidence, or is it tolerance and frustration? 

Did your heart beat faster when I was there?

Did you look forward to when we were apart?

Did you let me believe that I was helping you?

Did you say words to make the moments pass?

Did you ever feel that we were meant for each other?

If you did, when did it change?

Why didn't you tell me?

Photo by Romeo Varga on Unsplash

What was the darkness like that surrounded you?

Were you not able to say the words?

Could you sleep?

Were dreams poisoned now that you were lost?

Did you know there were possibilities?

Do you understand that everything is broken?

In the words I heard you say one night, were they meant for me or really for you?

Under fire, I watched you evade the worst and was thankful and impressed.

Much further down the road, I found that you were bleeding.

I was not ready to accept that. 

I made up reasons for your behavior.

But as time passed, I found that you lost every battle.

You were tainted and compromised in heart and mind.

Your survival has required this cloak that you wear.

It is a prison without the desire to leave.

Do you sleep?

If so, how is that possible?

I called you invincible, seeing all of the light within.

But when treachery and danger permeate every sunrise,

the game is laid before you to play an artful hand.

Those who have hurt you are no better than the pusher 

because they have not only stolen your most precious gifts, 

but they have trained you to pillage them from yourself.

Is it better now?

Does one less lie make it easier to not feel pain?

More than ever, I hate those who have hurt you.

I like to think I could see who you could be without the pain.

I thought it was terrific.

In my heart, I know they are to blame.

You, too, are the victim. But I know better than so many

this is a road that will take you apart piece by piece.

I am sad.

I saw you, and you were amazing. 

I long for you to realize that you have choices other than those you were taught.

Deep down inside I worry that you will exist in what you know.

I used to live there. I had love, and it saved me.

Do you sleep?

The very nature of your condition makes me stumble.

I have to remember it is my flaws that make me do that.

You will be who you will be, and I can do nothing.

I like to think you have seen the possibilities.

You were there.

There is always hope that you will remember, dig your feet hard, and say no more.

For that I have to hope in the light I saw in you.

It is what I hope for you.

Amid my incredibly mixed emotions for being as blind as I once was, 

you, too, have love.