Three

I know your type
you're the kind that walks with your head on straight
in spite of the war that's raging in your mind
I know you
you're the kind that bikes on rainy days
so you won't have to speak to anyone you may pass
so that you can just think. think. think.

you think too much
I know that too

I know your type
you're the kind that pleads with God to make you and your friends so
so much better
the type that rubs your rose-colored eyes with both your hands and whispers nightly
"help soandso know that hey're loved infinitely" and "help them live truly"
"really"
"fully"
you say this
all the while not at all feeling alive or loved

oh I know this too well
you see, I've been you before
you coffee drinker, late-night reader
you never-crier but intense feeler

I get it

I've walked that wooden path
I've gripped the metal with my hands as the wind whipped my face with my unkempt hair

I get it

I've stared at the waters, feeling a sick despair grow inside me
wanting, longing, yearning for someone to touch my shoulder and say

"don't jump" or "I love you" or just anything

I get it
I've been you
sometimes I still am

I know you, that's why I'm telling you now with my theoretical hand touching your shoulder

don't do it.