In My Place

Helpless is what I feel, is what I am, You

Smothered in deceit and willful anguish

Buried six feet under own blood skin

With just enough room to breathe

Enough to tear up, enough to tear apart

Digesting lovers, kiss by kiss,

Wriggling in shackles, movement

Too subtle to the ones around

I saw you.

Helpless is how I watch, is how I console, You

Hanging by rope, hope-woven

Choking a withering tree whose roots yearn affection

Mum with pride, like you never lost a war

Won’t bend but crumble, falling pieces extinguish silence

Too faint to the ones around

I heard you.

Helpless in words I speak, in when I touch, You

Bread crumb trail amidst woeful boulevard

False power and prudence and pride and joy, this shell

Inanimate character breathed to an exhausting life

Stretched hands reaching in the flickering dark, touch

Too weak to the ones around

I felt you.

Been through the worst, worse is on its way

Helpless I am and helpless I come to you

No sweet words for unattainable closure

No sunshine tomorrow to confide in

No rainbow path to assured escape

No anaesthetic to numb you

My place not to provide, not to shoulder tears

Not of a helping hand, not of resolve

That place is yours, no one else

I stand in my place, by your side

Always.

-         The Oxymoron