I came dragging out of winter,
wet and bruised and bleeding
while letting you hold on to me
like we were crossing a river in January
and you didn’t know how to swim.
Now I’m at the outer banks of June
still trying to shake the frost from my bones,
holding my tears each night while trying to stay strong for you
and I can’t feel my own toes.
I need you to stand for me,
hold me straight
while on my own I’d be bending like a branch weighted with too much snow.