I cut my wrist.
I saw the blood,
I felt the sting.
The cut was on the surface,
Not quite deep enough
To scratch the vein.
But I cried and my stream of tears
washed the red away,
but not the internal pain.
-
I woke you and told you,
not wanting to,
but not knowing what else to do.
You did not react how I thought you would;
not in anger,
but you cared.
You sat with me, ever patiently,
and let me babble like a fool.
You nodded and gave me time to cool.
My words had run out.
For once I had nothing more to say.
No more excuses as to why.
When I glanced at you
a stillborn tear just lay there in your eye.
That is what I did not want.
Unable to say “I’m sorry”
I hung my head in shame.
The world felt its heaviest then.
“I didn’t mean to wake you up”
was all I could stutter out.
“I’m glad you did” I heard you reply.
-
Then I felt your arms
wrap around my shoulders.
Never before had I felt such warmth.
…Such closeness
had I never experienced before.
You whispered to me, “I love you”.
That soothed my troubled mind, and I felt the same
but “sorry” is all I could say,
“…sorry things turned out this way”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem