PTSD

He’s always there waiting
He’ll never leave me
He’s patient and observant
And chooses to remain at arms length
He selects our moments very carefully
To ensure that the full impact of his presence
Isn’t lost amidst banter and giggles
He knows that his name will linger on lips at some point
Giving him the permission that he needs to show himself
And then he’ll get up and dust himself off
He’ll fix his hair and smile to himself
He’s been waiting for this moment with anticipation
Since the last time that he stepped out of the shadows
His voice is as loud as it is soft
He speaks only to me at first
Making sure that I know his intentions
That I understand his words and his presence
And then he uses my voice to reinforce the basics
He uses my words to describe everything that is important to me
And uses my mirror to check out his crooked grin and his charisma
Then he takes my hand and says that he’s got this handled
To just sit back and listen to his words
He recites sonnets for me and ensures that I hear every word and its significance
Then he’ll use my voice to speak
And his words become mine
So that everyone else can see how reliable he is
To remind them that he’s always so close
A simple reminder is all that he needs
To step into the light and consume everything that I am
To weave my deepest insecurities into casual remarks
To let me glimpse the reality of those shared memories
To become the lump in my throat and my firmly clenched jaw
The tears in my eyes and my trembling hands
As I manage to smile and politely excuse myself
He’s always here, patiently waiting to be introduced or remembered as who he pretended to be
But never as he actually was