His hand presses against the glass.
So softly, so faintly.
I place my hand to mirror his.
It was confusing to me that
someone so close could feel so far away.
This went on, for what felt like an eternity.
Until one day, suddenly,
His fist hit the glass.
I wait for it
to shatter into a million pieces.
He screams and he cries.
It was confusing to me that
someone so strong could become
so vulnerable in an instant.
Anxiously,
I wait for the glass to crack,
to fracture,
to do something that would give me
the smallest sliver of hope.
I wish it was me instead of him.
No one deserves to be stuck
somewhere they can’t escape.
It was confusing to me that
someone who’d never done anything wrong
was forced to live in such a hell hole.
I am forced to watch and wait.
As he suffers on the inside
with no way out.
I have to be there for him
just out of reach.
I was taught to be happy when I won
and I was taught to be sad when I lost.
But this isn’t something I can win or lose.
I was never taught how to feel about this.
And that’s why I’m so confused.
