Yes, but I want her back
I want her to tell me
how she sees none of this pain
That she only cares for sheep,
her small box of love letters,
and the radishes on her windowsill

That she saw brightness in herself
and for her future
That there was hope
hanging onto her curls,
in the muddy light
of her fire escape at sundown

And even though she cried
and often called him
to resuscitate her
that she still knew
she was strong
That she would live
to fight for her own
broken mind