A poem scratched in response to supporting a lot of people recently.

What to do with your tears but add my own? As for your fears: I’ll give them a home. Your silence is a gift too soon silenced by those who have nothing to say. Deny it not—it’s worth it yes: the mascara on your face! Abandon the tissues they have no use for mud. Hold my hand and sink instead: this may be enough. If not I’ve sailed the currents of the heart, its woes and sorrows, its lyrics and starts. I sing then, and my task is clear: sit with me and sing with me to eternity, my dear, for that is where the soul lives. Sit with me and sing with me until it rings in everything.