She painted him
sunsets and mountains
and love, to try to take
the grief away.

She wrote words of
inspiration and hope
and complexity
to show him how simple
happiness could be.

But she failed to see
how deep his sorrow went,
and she couldn't draw a
rope long enough to rescue
him and every escape she tried
to write for him led to a dead
end, and he was left to
sit there and be consumed
by every malicious thought
ever to exist.