you say
that you
are relatively
happy.

this is
like saying
i am
relatively
sane-

that is,
not
at all.

there
is no
middle ground
in this.

you either are
or you are not.

you reveal
yourself
to me
as a drifting
wreck
upon
golden shores
uncharted.

 despite
the beauty
of your being,
i worry
and worry
and worry again,
mulling
over your
personal
state of mind.

i anxiously
twitch
and mutter.
my mental state
shudders
and quakes,
doubt
and concern
taking over
my state of self.

i find myself
speaking
out loud,
asking:

is he well?

can i help him?

does he even need me?

what if this is my fault?

will i ever be there for him?
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