She
She plays every song nice and slow
she writes every letter with everything she’s ever known
she keeps her head high when she’s below
She’s learning how to grow
she sings sad songs into the night
she breathes in every blow
everything she feels, is the last flight
as she creeps softly in the night
a long walk home doesn’t bother her when she’s alone
everything feels right, even when it’s wrong
this might be her last song
this might be her last breath
and with her last whisper she might sing you to death
This poem is about:
Me