Talk to you

I wish I could hug you right now,
but these very same hands gave you scars,
I'm guilty of it and I don't know what to do,
so I stare at the dead weight on my hands for hours.

It's hard to deal with this pain every time,
even if we saw it coming from afar,
still, it hurts just the same every time,
every wound, no matter how familiar, leaves a scar.

I wish there was some reason or logic,
something that will help me explain,
a reason why things always end up like this,
but unfortunately, every possibility to understand this mess has been slain.

I wish I could give you hope,
without making it sound like I'm talking about an impossible future,
I wish I could give you more than shallow-sounding promises,
and wounds that won't be fixed even if I try to suture.

I wish I could say things will get better,
I wish I could explain how it will be okay,
I wish I never knew that I don't see a way out of here for us,
I wish mere words were enough to convince you to stay.