The Coming And The Going

To each one that held a piece of me,
Or still holds one.
To the one that I sipped my coffee with at 4:27 am,
And the one that kissed my drunken lips.
The one that heard those never ending tales and became so consumed in them,
And the one who walked me home under the violet skies.
To the one who claimed for his own.
I lent you a part of me that you never returned
and I was too meek to ask for it ever.
For that void was so full of the black
that I feared not, rather held in for that stars.
I gave you cracks to fill and places to hide,
Fears that I shared and memories left behind.
I am sorry if I ripped you apart with my brokenness,
I am sorry if my pieces cut you through,
If those craters from the burns were too harsh to caress,
Or my words too difficult to gulp.
My silence would have been worse,
But you should know, you weren't devoid of that empathy you wanted to lend, but couldn't,
Rather my doors were locked to let you in.
I would have punished you sometime,
For the doing of another,
Or pushed you away, farther.
And none of it would have made sense.
But then,  it was never about making sense,
Only about you coming and going.
And I'd still say,
Thank you for leaving the door open.