I study the curvature of your spine
and the lines of your body
glances that last no more than a
couple of seconds
glances that are unbeknownst to you
fighting the internal battle
I have two armies
ready for all out war
red versus blue
heart versus mind
their bullets leave
holes in my soul
healing only to
be re opened again
for you are a
warrior of your own kind
weathered down by the
corrosive waters that
we call life
you have two stones on
your shoulders
and a library of books
resting on your spine
and i want to carry them
for you
because darling you are a
beautiful rose
with thorns like two sided
blades
made to keep people out
and to keep you inside
the prison you call your
mind
unable to prune those thorns
i can only study
the ever growing shadows
under your eyes
and the dryness of
your lips
you built a plaster cast
over your most vulnerable parts
waiting for the person
who will fight the pain
of pruning your thorns
for darling
you are a shell of what
you once were
and all i can do is watch
you recede into yourself