Can't; Won't

Can I take that wounded offering
Into the warmest fold of my coat
And set it at ease with full care?

I can.

Can I slip a palm onto the tension that crawls
Weaving in and around all this stifling air?

I will.

There is a broken heart, kneeling
Heavy and filled with regret
Longing for that last effort to rewind
Pre-puncture.

I can't; it won't.

Vibrating guitar strings bury their ache into my ears
I become immune to the wish to stay away from such sorrow
I instead want to be near;
Close enough to hold the hand of such pain
And alleviate the burn of loss in random, semi-permeable moments.

Dark, tousled, strained
I am the landing for such torment
And why is that...........

I am understood in the affliction I recognize
Drawn to burden and the wish to soften;
I am backwards in my need to repair.

Heavy healing is looking outright
Introspection still seeks to heal the loss of another

I am handicap in my directives

Focusing less on the inner toil and leaning more on the ease of other ships

Where was this affinity born?
Surely not through want of ignorance
Perhaps on a day late in May
When language was just a muffle bouncing off space
Did my afternoon pattern experience a blip

And from that moment on, seeking solace for others
Became the inward desire that my life would choose to placate.

In any case
Musing on dialectical happenstance is tiresome,
Yet miles from boring.