ARE YOU FINE?

 

“Are you fine?”

You ask me if I am fine. I think that’s the funniest thing. 

I would have asked if you were fine, but it would be the dumbest thing.

I do not know if you ask me out of mockery, pity,

or if you really want to know. 

But I think I have questions.

“Would you be fine if you built your world around

 someone from the word they gave you, and then they leave?”

“Would you be fine if you spent months being loved

 like that was the only thing that existed… just for it to end?”

You ask me if I am fine, but how can I be? 

Only yesterday, we had the time of our lives. 

Today, you decide that’s not what you want for 

yourself, and I cannot help but think you lied about what we meant. 

I don’t know if I am fine, or obsessed with the need for an answer. 

Wondering if you meant all you said and if asking

if I am fine was a sign that you cared.

It’s funny to me, 

I was by myself until you said I make for a good friend, 

better a great partner. 

Then I let loose myself, taking one step after the other.

Some days carefully, other times recklessly. 

But in all of these, giving myself the idea of what you said we both can do.

I believed you and gave a chance to you, for us.

And it was all good, until you felt it was no longer good. 

Invalid reasons result in pain, yet you go ahead 

to build with someone else what I thought we had going. 

And you tell me we can be friends, isn’t that funny? 

I am not even mad, or… I lie, I am upset. 

Because I ask myself if I was so stupid that I missed the intentions behind this.

I fault myself because I think I was our end.

No decency, you didn’t explain a thing to me.

Just yesterday, we were so in love, you were into me and I was your everything.

You woke up and we no longer belong, and 

I wonder if that was love I felt when I placed 

my head on your chest.

Just how could you fall out of love hours apart? 

Or how long had it been since you stopped to have us in heart? 

What was wrong, and why break my heart? 

Did you hear a word or two about me, something you couldn’t put together? 

Would you be fine if I left you wondering why I left? 

Now you are over my face asking if I am fine.

Heck, would you be fine if someone kissed you so deeply, 

said they miss you, bought you a gift, 

made jokes about the nights they spent with you? 

Would you be okay if I had said who you are makes sense to me

but you are not convinced this is meant to be? 

Would you be fine if you let your guards down for me, 

just for me to rip you in pieces? 

I am not even sure if I am mad at you, 

because I convince myself (every night) that it’s better that 

you left than stay and hate me with your heart. 

But that doesn’t make me fine. 

You rekindled the light I turned off.

I hate that I was careful enough.

Then I was reckless enough.

I gave and I held just how it should have been done, 

but nothing stopped hell from unleashing its results. 

Would you be fine if all these happened? 

I am here sweating it out, rebuilding my trust, 

asking myself why, and waiting on heaven to take away this cup, but that’s fine.

This too shall pass, but I hate that it had a start. 

Now, would you be fine if it was you? 

It’s funnier when I think about how easy it’s been for you to move.

Tell our jokes to someone else,

Build a home when I am not there!

I should let go, but it does hurt my heart a bit.

I really wasn’t all that you said; 

everything I thought you meant was just air.

Would you be fine if our moments became someone else’s? 

I don’t adore my new reality. 

Before you ask if I am fine,

Think about all I said and the things that count.

And stay out of my business until my wounds dry out.

I cannot journey to heal and still battle your clownery. 

Let me have just one to deal with; it’s hard to move but leave me be.

Maybe if I don't catch a glimpse of you and your newly found reality, 

I would forget the promises you made to me and be fine for real.

So tell me, If it were you, would you be fine?