This is you

This is you.
 
You, being a good friend.
 
You are one of the best I’ve been graced with; constantly
putting up with my mood swings, highs and lows, keeping all the secrets that
would have killed me if I hadn’t given them to you. You’ve given things up that
I didn’t agree with, simply because I didn’t agree with them. You never get
tired of me unloading all my troubles onto you, and I know that if my need was
big enough, you’d be on the train in an instant.
 
No.
 
Start again.
 
This is you.
 
You, being held in the palm of my hand and wrapped around my
little finger, telling me you’re perfectly comfortable there, but I’ve wound
you so tight I’m afraid you’ll fade away some day and prove to me that I was
never loved, it was all in my head, what was I thinking, someone like you
loving me? Better to gently pry you off and let you loose into the moonlight;
angel wings are too fragile for my crushing suffocating affection.
 
No.
 
That’s wrong too.
 
This is you.
 
Knowing me without me even knowing myself, knowing what I
need before I need it, gentle smile telling me to trust you, it’ll all be
alright, just focus on your voice and pretend, pretend like
it’s one of my fantasies because lord knows how many of those I can concoct in
a day while idly staring at the clock, waiting for the hands to tick over and
your name to appear on screen. Focus on your voice, it’s all alright, you’ll be
here soon, you promise you’re not a phantom, please tell me you’re real because
I need reality right now. Who’d have thought emotionless type could be so
soothing?
 
Stop.
 
This is you.
 
This is what you do to me.
 
This is why I love you.