I'm still holding, you're still pushing,
poems drowning me in pain,
you speak your problems in soliloquy,
but shatter silence in written phrase.
You told me, wounded and through tears,
that there was nothing I could do,
though I applaud at your careless dancing,
I'm an audience when you're blue.
And you have me on my knees,
when the tattered curtain falls,
how I wish to be beside you,
when the bitter sadness calls.
And I'm broken when you've spoken,
your kind words through white teeth,
as your poems start to unravel,
all the pain that lies beneath.