Your hair falling out like leaves in autumn,
You are my favorite season.
You bleed broken regrets into an IV bag
Spending your last nights talking to God,
I won’t go home without you.
So amazing like a poinsettia’s petals or the smell of fresh carpet,
You’re similar to them all
Yet notice how they don’t stick around forever.
Each prick of a needle at your skin
reminds you of all the things you never got the chance to do.
Your self-conscious slowly slipping away just like how your health did.
Being ashamed of your own shadow
Just because it haunts you with the things you should have said long ago.
Everything about you is still so beautiful
The memories are like a grocery store that supplies you with the strength to fight this uphill battle,
You are not alone.
Even though you’re broken,
Your smile still bears like a lingering sunset
A rhythmic song with a messed up beat,
I am your singer.
You are a Cherokee Indian,
And me? Well, I’m your moccasins.