26

Oh, words.
Most of my life you have been all I need.
You began with me in Winnie the Pooh diaries.
We then graduated to thick woven journals with covers etched in Chinese symbols.
The symbols meant nothing to us, what we shared in our pages meant everything.

Oh, words.
Downstairs we could still hear the turbulence of our loved ones roaring.
Other words were being used as stabbing knives, striking the heart and the gut.
Upstairs you and I met in our secret space, my tears blurring the ink of the feelings we recorded.
We had each other, words; to soothe the pain of what we heard.

Oh, words.
Do you remember when I left you?
I was lost for a bit; hiding from myself.
I was feeding an insatiable thirst that tried to destroy the me that you needed to come alive.
I forgot that I had you to comfort me, to bring me back to the place of truth.

Oh, words.
When we reuinted, I must say it was out of desperation.
I had finally starved the deadly thirst and felt a terrible void.
It was then I reached out for you; you were waiting as you always are.
We had so much to share; we had so much to say. 
We wrote pages, we filled journals, we uncovered who we were again, but also for the first time.

Oh, words.
Tears are dropping on these keys, but they do not stop me.
I am needing you like I always have.
Below I hear again, the roaring of voices who are abusing you, and each other.
And here I am, soothing the pain with you, because you're always all I have.

Words.