commandments
hold the door for the able
(but not for the rich)
hold the door for the advantaged
(but not for the kids)
hold the door for your mom
(but never your dad)
hold the door for the dog
(but never the cat)
eat enough to survive
(but only a little)
eat enough to stay thin
(but don't stay brittle)
remember the love you've lost
(but don't you ever regret)
remember the lives you've changed
(but know what to expect)
for you
i take.
i take the words from your mind and place them in your mouth. let you talk.
i take your sorrows echoing in the alleys and make them my own. let you heal.
i take passion, i take contempt, i take the tingling numbness you feel when you're consistently silenced but have that ever-burning desire to speak.
i take your hands in mine and i let you know that you are beautiful, beautiful, and not in the old-timey, princess type way, but in that you make me uncertain.
i take your hands in mine and i feel my aches subside, my emptiness slowly dissolves and you start to sweat but you are still so damn beautiful.
i take because i need and i don't mean i lust, i mean i need to hold your hand.
i need to let you talk let you heal let you know that nothing will ever tame this confusion you bring upon me but that it's okay because i need you.
i need you to understand that i take not out of greed but because there is nothing left to take from me