head vs heart

Here you lie my sweet dear, nestled into my chest waiting to be called upon again. Your muscles itch to move, to feel, to do what you were destined to do. But here I keep you, in the safe cocoon of my chest. Away from danger. 

I can’t help but remember how scratched and battered I found you a year ago. The cracks in your once hard shell. The way your eyes ran like waterfalls, a never ending stream of loss and fear. The thought of seeing you like that again scares me, so I fall into the role of an overprotective mother - it feels easier to keep you hidden then risk the chance of you being hurt. 

But I know you yearn for more, for that feeling again - of doing what you were destined to do. To experience that euphoric high that leaves you aching simply because you can’t stop smiling. That “I could jump off a cliff and survive” feeling, the one where you don’t think about the fall, only the view, the sweet nothingness that you feel in the air. You think only of the jump, of the feeling of holding someone’s hand as you do so. But what if their feet never leave the comfort of the cliff edge? What if they let go and I have you pick you up off the ground again? I know you don’t always think about the consequences, the aftermath, but that’s what I’m here for. 

Maybe one day I’ll open the gates a bit, leaving the key just close enough so you can escape. But for now, you stay in the jail that is my chest. A sentence that I know  slowly deteriorates you, but I’d rather you be unhappy and weak, rather than broken. Rather than not being here at all. 

- O