A RAMBLE

 A RAMBLE

I.

So, yeah, it’s like—

you’re out there,

floating, right?

No rope,

no hand reaching,

just… drifting.

Rescue?

It’s this faint buzz,

like a radio station

you can’t tune in.

Silence hits harder,

way harder,

like the world’s

holding its breath,

waiting for nothing.

II.

And you—

you’re stuck,

watching the news crawl,

those headlines,

they’re like teeth,

biting into you.

Tears,

people breaking—

it’s proof,

the world’s a mess,

a big, ugly mess.

You didn’t sign up for this,

but it’s there,

shoved in your face,

day after day.

Exhausting,

huh?

III.

Fear’s everywhere—

vultures circling,

waiting for a stumble.

Evil’s not distant;

it’s right there,

scratching at the door,

patient,

like it’s got forever.

You’re just…

trying to breathe,

pretending

it’s not that bad.

But it is.

You know it.

IV.

I’m here,

watching,

useless.

I’d throw a line,

but the gap’s

too damn wide.

Your eyes—

they hold it all,

too much seen,

and I’d give anything

to scoop it out,

bury it deep

where it can’t reach.

But I can’t.

Just… stuck,

wishing hard.

V.

God, I want to love you

out of this.

Wrap you up,

block the noise,

the claws,

the dark.

Flood it all

with something soft,

warm,

until it melts.

For now,

it’s just this—

ache,

hope,

that maybe love

can untangle you

from the world’s grip.

Maybe.

I don’t know.