You speak your life in poetry. <br /> <br />Your heart broke like ice on the tin roof, <br />wide and running, over metal, overhead. <br />Then it fell, on a mission, <br />over the edges. <br /> <br />You cried up a lonely midnight, <br />infinite black and starless depth. <br />As vast as the grief you've promised yourself <br />until the day of your death. <br /> <br />I could sink my fingers <br />into a red seeping pain, <br />as visible as the breaths <br />that you struggle to take. <br /> <br />But I only want to help. <br />Always. Only. Better. For you, baby. <br />I'll gather you up sweet <br />with those 'things that were done.' <br />Call them lessons, <br />though I wish I could wish them away. <br />Stay. <br />And I'll take care of you tenderly, my poet <br />Always. Only. Better. For you.<br /><br />Anna Chapman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/always-only-mine/
