Rough Draft

If there was a line I could write 
that would fix this home for good,
I would jot it down until my fingers were numb.
The words would be burned into memory so quickly 
as I whisper them to the stars, 
hoping that they echo the message back to you. 
If there was a poem I could recite 
that would fill in my faults and cracks
I would mix it into the plaster and stand so still. 
The stitching and filling would tightly mend, 
proving to you how serious I am, 
how I am everything you remember even if stained. 
There is a sadness in humanity, 
bruises that are left when fallen from grace, 
and there is strength in bearing it all. 
So if there was a line I could write, 
that would take over every line you wish to forget, 
I would jot it down until the numbness in your heart faded away.