You may think it doesn’t show,
but I see it.

 
Each time she asks for help,
a help she hasn’t deserved from you for years now,
I feel the weight it leaves upon you.

 
I would never judge you.
You’ve never judged me.

 
That’s love.
Quiet, loyal,
even when it hurts.

 
But your anger smolders beneath your skin,
your frustration flickers
like embers beneath ash,
when you answer her calls,
carry her burdens,
and stand by someone
who stop standing by you a long time ago.

 
She has everything.
You have so little for yourself,
and still,
you give.

 
Because that’s who you are
smteady, unshakable,
still standing
after decades of what always has felt like insanity to us all. 

 
I love you for it,
but it breaks my heart to watch .

 
At times watching you unravel,
into quiet despair,
disintegrating
into a sadness
I think you mistake for calm.

 
And still,
I wish you could see yourself
as I see you.

 
How strong you are,
for surviving her cruelty,
for keeping your decency
in the shadow of her destruction.

 
There have been so many times
I’ve wanted to say,
“But you need you more.”

 
Yet the words stayed behind my teeth.

 
The ache lingers.
Not for her,
but for the light
she hasn’t stopped fading in you.

 
Maybe one day,
you’ll stop answering her calls,
and the silence
will sound like freedom.

 
Maybe one day,
you’ll choose yourself
without apology.

 
     Until then,
     I’ll keep loving you,
     sad, defiant, tender, alive.

 
         Believing
         that someday
         you’ll see
         what I’ve always known,
         you haven’t been the broken one.