weeping willow.

frail arms

around your

small waist

and shaking frame

holding you close

and adding to your warmth

that’s hardly there

gentle touches

to your tear stricken face

wiping away the

last bit of strength you had

and assuring you

that

it would be alright

but these arms

and these hands

start to fall apart

before your own eyes

crumbling

into dust into

nothingness

the shoulder you used to cry

is no longer there

and you blame yourself

for making them hold

you upright

when they could hardly

hold themselves

and now you must

find somewhere

to wither away silently

and sob into your palms

with no one but yourself

to tell you

it will be okay.