people that aren't there

so confiding in me was best for you,
but i don't know so much about myself.
i have a sad feeling deep inside,
as if soemthing has ended.
and i suppose in a way it has.

what is it about me that chooses the sick to love.?
what is it in me that wants to care for the broken,
to such an extent that i forget myself?
but yes, that was me.
now i've got to look out for myself.
a tinge of guilt, and a hint of selfishness...
but if it means me not breaking apart, then that may be the best idea.

that rash on my leg has still not cleared.
it's so small and insignificant, but it's really bothering me.

i don't really feel worried,
love,
just sad.
i wish you never had to deal with this illness.
and i'm sorry i can't console you,
or offer any relief.

keep your promises...
i'm keeping mine.
but it's not a chain around my ankles.
i can at least walk freely.

and i'm walking in that freedom now...
whatever the cost.