Here to get my hands dirty.
To work the garden until the fruit has grown sweet and plenty.
until my work is paid back to me.
until someone hears my heartbeat and the pain i carry.
this broken melody.
a chosen pen but nobody is choosing me. 
The words i write , to provide a light, a catalog so I never lose sight of D.
i bruise easily.
peace comes when we snooze.
skype calls to end the night we’re weaving our souls back into me and you beautifully.
the isn’t new to me.
it’s not a duty, i’m just the one for you and you the…