your rough fingers laced tightly between strong
branches that stem from your warm empty palms
that are woven into my hair
your mountains melting into my valleys
your strengths overcoming my weaknesses
you have buckets that catch my rain
and I, the nails in your sturdy frame
yes I am a little torn, a little worn in
but you look at me like I am brand new
like I have never been used
although, that is exactly what you do
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