sometimes we harden our exterior
not so much to shield the tenderness of our broken heart
but to keep the smaller pieces from falling out.
so when The Friend requests that you lie down,
lie down and bring a smile to the burning bed;
in the end, running on empty, we are free to fly
NOTE: this is a reworked excerpt from an older poem “we cry at the pictures we hold in our hearts” Sometimes I refine older work as I find and polish the gems i discover inside them years later.