I don’t speak true to you out of fear,
If the wet balcony could hear, had ears
And heard the splat of lateral flattened flesh,
A crime scene tape job, robbing you, unfit for your two eyes—
It’s a risk, to hide this hurt from you,
I admit, it’s a risk to be so untrue,
To protect you from the pain that you are do.
Colliding with the ground emotional pound,
Departure from the sky, I fall so many times
Then climb back up.
The wear and tear of weary war torn worry heart,
Mind and body part with soul,
Droll disaster humor type does mold,
Welding hell-bound hurt to heaven’s structure,
The swell ruptures and concerns,
There is cause for pause.
Is there room for fern or ficus
In this space? will I give it room
To breathe or say a waste?
I’d like to think I’ll never put you on trial
However trying these times are,
I’d like for you to never see my pain if but only from afar.