October 28th 2022:
When your run slows to a walk
I will match your stride
When your walk turns to limps
I will be your crutch
When you are unable to move forward
I will sweep you into my arms
And move for the both of us
When your breath shallows
I will breathe less air
for you to have more
And when you take your last inhale
I shall try to give you my own
But all I will hear is silence
And I will be alone.
-to grandma, my best friend
YOU ARE READING
A Poetry Book: That will never be published
PoetryA collection of poetry from over the years. I separated each into categories to help ease of readers. Trigger warning as some parts may contain suicidality, or mentions of suicide like thought processes or rumination.
