Where is your love when you're staring down death?
Where is it when you're sick?
When you're hurt?
When you're lost?
Does your love keep you afloat when the dam breaks and the city drowns;
when the water flows above your legs, above your neck, above your head and
flailing arms?
Does it save you then?
Does it bring air to your lungs when the concrete keeps you down?
Does your love keep you sane when your voices speak and scream;
when you look but cannot see, and when you scream but your voice you can't
perceive?
Does it save you then?
Does it tame your thoughts when they run like rabid dogs across the landscape
of your mind?
Does your love keep you alive when you're laying in your bed;
white tape and casts on arms and legs, your bones aching and your muscles dead?
Does it save you then?
Does it get you out of bed when your heart refuses to produce the beat
that proves that you're alive?
Yes, it does.
The dam may break and the city may drown,
but even if I cannot keep from going under,
my love will be the reason I can disappear into the murky blue with a smile on my face.
The voices may speak and scream and sing and yell,
but even if I cannot keep them silent,
my love will be the reason I can still hear her voice when all I hear is noise.
The bones may shatter and muscles tear,
but even if my bed becomes my home,
my love will be the reason I can lay there still without a need or want to move.
My love may not save me like foreign blood and sturdy splints,
it may not dull my mind like Aspirin and Clozaril,
it may not keep me breathing air like rubber mask and metal tank,
But it can make the broken bones go away,
it can make the voices silent,
and it can make me lose the need for lungs.
My love won't solve my problems,
but it will make them go away
in the same way that my soul is taken away
when she grips my hand and holds me close.