I’ll Hold Your Hair And Your History
You are on the bathroom floor again with your cheek near the tile
knees pulled in
one hand holding the rim like it’s the only thing that stays
You mumble an apology to nobody in certain, half to me
half to some old ghost that still lives in your blood and never pays
Your eyeliner is halfway down your face
your shirt is twisted
and you keep saying “I’m so sorry” like being human is a crime that needs a judge and bail
I wet a washcloth, push your hair back from your mouth
and tell you to breathe, you are not on trial
you did not fail.
You sputter about drinking too much
sleeping too little
working all hours for people who would replace you before your coffee gets cold
You drag every mistake into the light
from the ex you went back to
to the texts sent at three
to that teenage night you never told
Your voice shakes when you reach the worst parts
the ones you only touch when the room spins and the walls fall apart
You say nobody wants the full story
just the highlight reel
and if they saw the truth they would run right from the start.
I have heard all this before in fragments, drunk, sober
half laughing
half shaking while we split fries on the bed
I never signed up as your savior
I am not here to repaint your past or bleach every memory in your head
I just refuse to let you puke alone and hate yourself in silence while those old voices rent space they never fed.
I will hold your hair and your history
even when both are a tangled wreck on this cold floor
You can spit up last night and ten years ago at the same time
I will not keep a score
You are not a confession that ruins the mood
you are not one bad chapter that slams every door
I will hold your hair and your history till you remember that your story is bigger than what you drank or who you swore you were before.
Later
when the worst of it passes and you sit against the tub sipping water from a chipped cup
eyes red
You start apologizing for trauma like you caused it on purpose
like you invited every bad thing into your bed
You talk about parents, exes, streets, failures
all the times you froze or said yes when you meant no
Every “no” you never said still claws at your throat
every time you stayed quiet still refuses to let go.
I am not here to say it is fine when it was not
or to rename the hurt as some blessing you should be glad you got
I am here to say none of that dirt lives only in you
it lives in the hands that put it there and the systems that left you to rot
You survived it, and survival is not pretty
it staggers, pukes, sobs, and still deserves a shot.
I will hold your hair and your history
even when both are a tangled wreck on this cold floor
You can spit up last night and ten years ago at the same time
I will not keep a score
You are not a confession that ruins the mood
you are not one bad chapter that slams every door
I will hold your hair and your history till you remember that your story is bigger than what you drank or who you swore you were before.
One day we will laugh about some of this
not the wounds
just the way we tried to hide them under cheap booze and borrowed jokes
We will remember how the plumbing rattled when you cried
how the neighbors turned up their TV to drown out the chokes
I will still be the idiot with the washcloth and the ponytail holder
tapping your back while you curse and spit
Not for martyr points, not for payback later
just because this is what care looks like when the world goes to shit.
I will hold your hair and your history
same hands for both, steady even when mine shake
You can hand me every ugly memory in pieces
I will not turn it into some lesson you had to take
You are more than what hurt you
more than what you drank
more than these tiles that feel like the end of the line
I will hold your hair and your history till you can stand up
brush your teeth
look in the mirror and see that you still fucking shine.
Next time you start to say I am too much while you slide toward that porcelain rim
I will be there with the washcloth
saying “you are here, you are safe
” until the lights go dim.