midnight

Have you ever met people whose stories you hold close to your heart? The ones you meet by chance. The ones with tales that make your heart heavy when you look back at them. The ones who look cheerful whenever you have a conversation with them during the day. The ones who opened up only past midnight. The ones who had to get reassured that the world was sleeping to reveal their deepest secret.

Do you think about that one night when he laid by your side with nothing to cover him but his emotions? You did not have to uncover any secrets as he laid bare to show you everything that hurt him. As you run your fingers over each scar, you unravel a new story that tugs your heart violently. As you stare deep into his unwavering eyes, you wonder what troubles him the most. 

What makes you angry when you look back at these stories? Is it the fact that this devastating tragedy struck them or that you were not there with them? It hurts, doesn’t it?

You were not there to wipe away the tears that stained the pillows wet and eventually turned dry. You were not there to decipher the lies behind the smiles nor the scream for help through those tight hugs to close ones. You were not there to take one look at those eyes and know the agony he went through when death fell upon his near and dear. You were not there to hold his hand tight and not let him experience the pain of those fingers slipping away one by one.  

Now you are there to slowly change those bad memories of last times with many firsts. You embrace the emptiness he hides while seated in front of you during the day and inwardly hope the midnights change him. And when the clock strikes midnight, he opens his well-guarded safe- his heart and lets you into the center of it.

You have come this far and got through all his guarded gates. He gives an extra key to his guarded safe, and it is your job to guard it well.