and I have always been told
to look out for myself
but I feel more of an asset to the world
when I am by your side

we will sit in the place where
you have cried yourself to sleep
and I will trace the alphabet on your back
and tell you stories of the clouds and how they came to be

while we listen to the mix tape
that I forged for slow days like this
which have the essence of a Sunday afternoon
though it may only be Tuesday evening

and the birds will timidly chirp outside
and the mild wind will blow
rusting the short grass
as well as our thoughts and presumptions

you will show me your favourite song
and I will let you borrow my favourite sweater
and we will create for ourselves
a small eternity within the confines of a single room

where the silence says more than words ever could
and we communicate with small, delicate movements
while the world carries on around us
but in our haven we are locked away

and I will stand by you while you save yourself
and attempt to understand the orderly chaos of your mind
while you retrieve the pieces, and fold them nicely
and set them on rafts that slowly drift away

as I watch from the opposite shore
wearing a hidden smile
because you will have set yourself free
and I will have done the same
and we will fly