What would I do without you who always has my back

My front and sides? Let’s just call it: you have all of me.

Belly to brisket, head to toes, that is how our river flows.

 

So thanks, because I can’t always hold myself.

Sometimes I run through my fingers like water.

Now there’s a helpless feeling for you. Other times

 

I’m fire. I burn things down. No, that doesn’t capture

The size of it. I burn everything down. I flatten shit,

Level earth. Rising with Pluto in Leo, I destroy.

 

And when nothing’s left, when only ashes remain

You’re still next to me, you little Phoenix. Ma petit bijou.

 

You don’t call me an idiot. You hand me a hammer

And a bag of nails and, mad as hell, tell me to get busy.

(By the way: I hate it when you do that.) But you stay.

 

So thank you for that, thank you with all of my heart.

Words could never flesh out the depths of my gratitude.

 

So what would I do without you? That’s easy. I’d be dead

and buried long ago, one of many crosses in a row probably

next to a busy road cars drive on all day, keeping me from

a good rest, which I never got while alive, either. So yes,

thank you, thank you very much for saving me from that.

 

Besides, remember? I wanted to be cremated anyway.

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