"This is for the ache in your chest.
The one you only look at
when everyone else is sleeping.
For shaking hands in the dark
when you take them to your ribcage
and pry it open, looking for the soft parts.
This is for how home stopped feeling like home
and started feeling like closed doors
and too many walls.
For how, sometimes, you look at the horizon
and think that if you started running now
you would never be able to make yourself stop.
I cannot be your strong northern wind and
I cannot stop the darkness when it finds you.
But I will hold your weary hands
and sit with you through the storm.
I am no wiseman;
I have no sagely words of advice.
But I will curl up beside you
and ache with you.
I will soak up your tears in the hem of my shirt.
I will be there, behind you, to help you keep balance
until your legs are strong enough
that you can stand all on your own.
I cannot fight your demons,
but I can kiss them
when you are too afraid to.
I can love you
when you think you don’t deserve it.
I can open my door
when you start to feel
like every way is closed to you.
I can kiss you goodnight.
I can kiss you.
I can kiss you."
"Shame on you, she says to me. Don’t you think you’re big enough to sleep alone now?
But who would want to sleep alone? Who on earth would ever want to sleep alone unless they had to, little or big?"