Fixer

"Let me fix you." The words left my mouth before I could even comprehend what I had said. I over analyzed it for days on end. Here I am, months later, and I still hear the words, bang like a gong, forever echoing the silence with chaos. I hadn't realized until much later what kind of power was behind that sentence.  You accepted it with grace, wisdom beyond your years, "No, I don't need fixed, I'm alright." I persisted, "No, I mean, I want to fix you." I pierced through your heart with a four inch wide sword. I twisted it. I pulled it back out. I hadn't intended it to hurt. I only meant, I wanted to help. I wanted your pain to go away and if I could do it, I would. It's naturally how I am. I am maternal, even before I was a mother, I wanted to open up my heart and give a piece of what was missing. But, you didn't want to replace it. You wanted that hole to remain. It is a reminder of what you have endured. You are correct, you don't need fixed. You are the way you are supposed to be. I cannot alter that- not intentionally in any sort of way, unless you want to change. Unless you find a way to fill up that void. I cannot do it for you. That is something I did not get then. You simply pointed out the door and I walked through it, realizing how wrong I truly was in my words. My intentions were kind, I had not gone about it the right way. You needed me to listen. To accept your arms around me for the night. To allow you to just be. You don't need fixed. You aren't broken.