Only with heavy weights on our eyelids,
Do we sit on wooden benches,
and contemplate our lives
Cardboard spirals carry a heavy burden to our lungs,
burning the very tissue we need to live
\"You\'re a broken man,\"
or so you\'ve been told,
by the lover,
who knows not of the struggles she folds
She already knew,
Before a word had been uttered,
the very pain,
you spoke in shallow mutters
washed away the dirt of a thousand words,
brushed easily away with a soft three word sonnet,
or so it felt, to the bench ridden man.