Why Be Afraid Of The Dark In The Morning?

I’ve been thinking that the best time to ask for help is when my head is clear and I feel at least a little in control. 

But she’s not the one that needs help, 

The me that needs help is half a bottle deep into whatever whiskey she could get her hands on. 

She’s cradling a cigarette between shaking fingers trying to catch her breath while rivers pour from her eyes and her mind feels like a tornado. 

She’s the one that needs the help. 

I’m okay.

I can smile a laugh and make jokes, 

I’m making dinner and watching cartoons and actually putting away laundry instead of pushing it into a pile on the bed. 

I know she’ll be back,

Because she always finds a way back.

When she does she’ll scream and cry and beg for help,

No one hears silent screams,

No one can pull you back together if they can’t see your broken seams.

I don’t want to think about her while she’s not here so what’s the point?