I sat there watching her tell of the love of her life
Who was stolen from her by
An envious bullet.
She had a pen, a paper and limited words
She wanted words, she needed words,
But I wanted to tell her it is okay
If words did not suffice,
It's okay that words could not fathom
The weight of her despair
She knew inside what that pain meant
And to translate for us was nearly impossible.
But she tried.
Fighting for the words that would paint
The bruises on her heart
Fighting for the words that could breathe him back to life again
She wanted him to live.