I cried into her shoulder
I expressed my fears
I became silent

Picture a ladder
she says.
Now imagine a ladder
that has been used
time and time again
for someone to reach the roof
even if for just a second.
What happens to the ladder?

It breaks.

Exactly.
Your ladder isn't made of
S T E E L
She can't be expected
to stay strong for
your own purposes.

Send the ladder to get fixed.
give her some repair time.
She's not one to leave you.

But I'm scared
I choke

I know you are.
We're all scared.
We all fear something.

But don't run.
You can't run.
I won't write your eulogy
Because I don't want to
imagine a world without you.

Poetry,
Written with
Ink, diluted
with Ego
Is a
Lost Art
And the
Pen loses
Its sheen
Only blemishes
On paper
Poetry is
Honesty