Bleed on Me

Here you are,
allowing me to inundate you
with my unsolicited life story.
Maybe you want me
to be silent, but
I like to think
you care.

Perhaps you’re just
yet another mistake;
perhaps I’ve placed my fragile trust
in yet another
unfit vessel, but
I like to think
you’re worthy.

I toss my weighty sorrows
into your outstretched arms
wondering if maybe
you want so much more in return,
like all of my other “friends,”
determined to drink all
of the creek’s refreshing water, and then
move on
to less accomodating,
less vulnerable detours.

But you seem different somehow—
You seem more human,
so I have this to say:
When you feel lonely and forgotten,
here I always stand.
Cling to my proffered shoulder,
and your teardrops
can mix with mine.
When you are cornered and embattled,
and when supposed allies
turn their backs
or tear open gaping wounds
in flesh you thought was protected,
bleed on me.

You might think I’m saying this
just so you’ll be obliged
to offer the same--
Maybe that’s a little bit true.
But I need a loyal friend
and you need a solid rock,
and maybe
we can help each other.