and make me believe you mean it.

that night. that night where we looked up at your balcony. that night i was silent.

i had told you i would go to the doctor three weekends away. you never asked if i went.

i never went.

so i wound up in the er.

and laying there, in that gown, on that cot, with a blanket pulled up around me, all i could think of was you and that night.

and the bottom of your balcony.

i feel the texture of your fence even now. the one i jumped over to find whatever it was you thought was there.

i dont know, to this day, what it was. i didnt care. i just wanted to see you, there, your hands crossed on the fence, looking down at me.

the light from the living room being blocked by the balcony. but not blocked enough.

your hair shown.

your neck.

your shoulders.

i never told you i cut my thumb cutting the tomato later that night. maybe you knew by the way i grabbed a paper towel and just held it as i ate.

you never said anything.

we sat down in the living room. i was right across from the balcony.

and now...

now i dont know what to tell you or what to do or what to feel or think or much of anything.

i fight. everyday i fight. myself mainly.

and sometimes i question its worth. my worth.

but i think of you. of your balcony.

of honeysuckle and grass and marvin gaye and splinters and my sister eating ice cream with you and family.

and i believe. all over again.

i believe.

id just like to know you believe.