The Things We’ve Been Given

They hand us little fires
Because they burned themselves
When they picked up the flames.

They hand us apology notes they never sent
Becuase the words were too hard
To pronounce on their papercut tongues.

And these people seem to only walk into our lives
Just to bleed in our direction.

But because we are soft,
We learn to absorb
And hold it in
Like a sponge.

As if we were born to be a place
Other people fall.

We stop asking ourselves if this is fair.
We stop expecting to be carried back in return.

And yet,
We’ll listen.
We’ll open the door.
We’ll build something out of all the ache
They handed over
Becuase a shelter built on our shoulders
Is still a home for someone.

And no matter how heavy it becomes,
We still muster the breath
To tell them

“I know you didn’t mean to break,
But I’ll hold the pieces anyway.”