Silk

I love you, I miss you, I don't want to go,
But I don't know how low this lowest can low.
You picked up my bones, and you stacked them as jenga,
But I live by the cliff, with no return to sender.

You were my silk that appeared with the drop,
You took the wrath; the punches not stop.
The hurt and the fear I must have created;
Eternal shame, an apology belated.

I don't want to go, but you know I will walk,
I'll watch my ideas and eye the big talk.
But I'll cry and I'll miss you my dearest old girl.
I'll always taste ginger; the comfort, the whirl.