I picked up, I carried, I reached— Let the poems go dry, Put the paints away, Filled my hands for the both of us. You never tried to understand. You pulled, you paced, you sprinted— Left me behind, Put the paints away, Filled your hands, but never shared. You never explained. I built the house, Filled the rooms, Patched the holes. You raised the walls, Locked the doors, Left me holes. I’m so tired. I can’t speak. You’re so tired. You can’t speak.