Four am reads the corner time She can’t sleep, so she decides to rhyme But even as she decides to write She knows she isn’t up for that fight. I’ve been at her side for what seems like forever I wait for the words that want to come out, but then I know that they may never. It’s like she can’t decide just what she has to say If only she’d tell that story, I’d be on my way. But she just stares at me, While I just stare at her. She has said it all before But never enough to forgive her that err. Now it is two days later, & I’m still a blank sheet of paper. There’s a tear in there somewhere that refuses to fall If it would land on me, that would say it all But she refuses to accept the truth, so simple, so pure, and so bare I wish she would just lay it out without all the misplaced care. But she just stares at me, While I just stare at her. The words are crass & jarred and refuse to come out from her Now it is two years later, & I’m still a blank sheet of paper.