(this has my fingerprints all over it
and it reeks of the familiar).
i remember losing my balance,
being bent over backwards
and tossed about in the waves.
i remember pleas that i cried out on keys
at hours of the night when nothing good ever happens.
i remember the calls i'm ashamed i made
thinking that if could draw out tendrils of feeling--
even if it was pity--
i could draw it about me like a blanket.
i never stopped to think
that i'd lose me in the process.
i see you. and i'm sorry.
but i can't be the one to fix you.
and sometimes it's better to be broken... first.
would you let Him pick up the pieces that you and i can't?
(this is for me too).
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