Slow, quiet mornings,
tears still remain,
Eyes red and heavy from
carrying pain.
Thoughts like a river,
too deep, running wild,
Hard to be strong
when I still feel like a child.

I don’t want much—
just someone to see,
To sit with my silence
and still choose me.
Not to fix all the pieces or
make me pretend,
Just to offer their love
that won’t break or bend.