My broken shoulder maybe it’s hard enough holding onto the weight of ever having loved you. Did you ever think it was ever possible I’d trip, coming up with all this? The things we say in poems are so easy to dismiss. There are pretty answers I can’t always predict handsome things come from you, always, especially when you’re hidden behind a wall. I dare not push for answers I don’t want feel so I wait for the look on your face to turn a different shade. I love you when you’re asking for a hand in yours. The perpetual distressed damsel not wanting to be counted out. I swear you swore back then, promising if I held tight to your hand, you’d be forever be mine I’m pretty sure you assured me then you’d never let go as you’ve clearly done.