Awkwardly Trading Places

I'm not good at fixing things. I'm
The one who's always broken. You're
The one who made repairs. Now,
I see you filled with grief. You cry,
And I stand, staring at the carpet,
Mute. What should I do? I'll imitate
How you have saved me, tell you
Sorrows slowly pass, and that, for
So long as you need me, I'll stay
Here with you.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 43 times
Written on 2015-02-24 at 17:46

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