I thought she
was mine to fix
I could save her
I was brought
up to believe
I was special
that way

I sat on the carpet
outside a closed
door
afraid of her sadness
Drowning
in my own need
for things to be right

I would tap lightly
on her door,
hoping in some way
the softness of my hair,
the innocence of my round face,
crystal blue eyes
would pull her
form the darkness
if only to the solitude
of a magazine,
the drone sound of a T.V.,
anything that involved light

I would tap lightly
on her door
only to be told
'I am alright, go play'�
as the cherry of her cigarette
smoldered a silhouette of her words

I would quickly
close the door,
returning to my mind:
absorbing her sadness,
defending it,
licking it,
eating it'�
sitting in my room
absorbing her illness
so she would have none

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