If I could take you out the grave
Put you back in the car
Slow down
Reverse back
Not have that argument
I would.

two people,
so very broken
that they had to
borrow and share
each other's
pieces to
finally feel
whole

You were my friend
My best friend
We saw the same
Thought the same
Loved the same
That was the problem.
When they came
I loved them
More then most
But you did too
They chose you
Without knowing,
My heart was breaking
The two people I loved most
Ripping my soul apart
I still love you both
But my love is a little broken
Just like me

When I was a shattered piece of glass
You picked me up and glued me back Together again.

When I was a bleeding heart
You smiled at me and taught me how to
Love again.

When I was a mindless, robotic zombie
You hugged me and made me feel
Human again.

And when I was a rotting corpse, dying
You loved me and made me want to
Live again.

Some people claim that special intuition
to know another person's thoughts and mind.
I do not.

I did not read her like a book, so I read her like a poem.
Her words did not arrange a neat picture of who she was.
So I listened.
I felt
and I paused
straining to hear every moment.
Envisioning.
I reflected, then I listened some more.

I saw patterns repeated,
the strain
and the wince
and I tested hire they felt on my own face

After learning a bit of backstory I flipped back through
what she had said and let the context take effect.

I saw stanzas, couplets, and rhythm

I did not analyze,
I felt,
Hearing her song-story.

I might be wrong.  I might have projected too much of myself, or glanced over a detail.

I can not recite her story or show you her heart,
but I listened to her poem and that is all that I can do.