Broken Bones.

He sits there.

He's one of those men who sit in a very dark room,

waiting to come out,

to see the sun, the clouds, and his home.

I feel him.

The sense of some unpredictable force that might break loose,

his quiet sense of something lost,

I can feel it.

Maybe he's not intend to make me love him.

But he fixed my broken bones,

devoured my anger and my anguish,

and hold my heart like he holds a grudge.

I feared him once,

I feared he'd reject me once and for all.

I did, I saw the damage.

But, does it matter?

We shared the same feelings.

The feeling of guilt,

related to emotion of anxiety.

Why?

We'll never know the answer.

We realized that even though everything else is different,

even though there's still an ocean or desert between us,

nothing really important has changed at all.

Up on the rooftop,

under the darkest sky of the night,

without the ache between us,

what were we made of?

I feel like, I'm in a good shape right now.

because I keep looking for him,

I keep searching for his face,

as if he were misplaced.

Who is he?

The guy who could wreck me anytime he wants,

the guy who told me not to fall for him,

the guy who let me love him sincerely.