You\'re here
Waiting, hoping, yearning
For me
To be here.
Yet
I brawl, crawl, drawl, bawl
balled up in the corner;
shutting my heart
to the saving blood
which courses, pulses, vivifies
what is dead.
But the mud is nice here I guess.
It\'s cool, calm, collected
together on my skin, clothes and faces.
And I stare at you,
wondering why
I\'m wasted
away in a corner
from you.
Then I think
Well,
I\'m so useless
Too weak to even grab the hand
which grasps its tendrils calloused,
which years have worked to man
me up and bring me home.
I mean, I want to go...
Maybe?
In one breath you are everything:
The world, my love, my own.
Yet
Somehow every exhale bleeding,
Seems makes this world more like my home.
You refuse just to pick me up
You\'re seeking out my hand.
Like any marriage it takes two
To wear the wedding band.
I\'m sorry, and I\'m sorry.
I\'m sorry, what I\'ve done.
But help me in the daily,
I\'ll try be here for once.