Promises Forged from Pain

I've wanted to post this, and I don't know whether it's the right time, or whether it will ever be the right time; but I'm going to do it anyway.

I think it's getting to the point where I can be myself again; it's getting to the point where we have almost made amends. I think it's the getting to the point that is the hardest part. And if you call, I will answer. And if you fall, I'll pick you up. And if you court this disaster, I'll point you home; I'll point you home.

You think I only think about you when we're both in the same room; I'm only here to witness the remains of love exhumed. You think we're here to play the game of who loves more than who. And if you call, I will answer. And if you fall, I'll pick you up. And if you court this disaster...

You think it's only fair to do what's best for you, and you alone; it's only fair to do the same to me when you're not home. I think it's time to make this something that is more than only fair. So if you call, I will answer. And if you fall, I'll pick you up. And if you court this disaster, I'll point you home...

... But I'm warning you, don't ever do those crazy, messed up things that you do. If you ever do, I promise you, I'll be the first to crucify you. Now it's time to prove that you've come back here to rebuild.

The promises are there; but sometimes the situation remains a case of witnessing the exhumation of something wonderful that passed. Sometimes it remains a case of doing only that which is best for them, and them alone. Sometimes they don't come back, and they don't rebuild; they move on.

Even so, the promises remain; in spite of the pain, in spite of the work you do to take your pieces and rebuild something new, and in spite of the slow disappearance of any trace of hope for resurrection of that exhumed love, you endure, and you let that promise stand. If you call, I will answer. If you fall, I'll pick you up. If you lose your way, I will point you home.