When he fell, he fell apart.
Cracked his bones on the pavement he once decorated
as a child with sidewalk chalk
When he crashed, his clothes disintegrated and blew away
with the winds that took all of his fair-weather friends
When he looked around, his skin was spattered with ink
forming the words of a thousand voices
Echoes he heard even in his sleep:
"Whatever you say, it is not right."
"Whatever you do, it is not enough."
"Your kindness is fake."
"Your pain is manipulative."
When he stood, he stood with a desolate knowingness
Waded out into the dark, wild ocean up to his neck
Bathed in his brokenness
Said a prayer of gratitude for each chink in the armor
he never knew he needed
Standing broad-shouldered next to him
was a love that was really something,
not just the idea of something.
So one last time
I need to be the one who takes you home
One more time
I promise after that, I'll let you go
Baby I don't care if you got him in your heart
All I really care is you wake up in my arms
One last time
I need to be the one who takes you home-