Not Your Shoulder, Not Your Crutch

I am not going to be your shoulder.

I am not going to be your crutch.

I am saying this as just as much for me as for you.

Because you don’t know it but that tugging on your wrists?

Darling, that’s my heart strings.

I looped them round when you weren’t lookin

And I swore I’d never cut them off.

Well I wish I had.

Wish before you stretched them far into the country of the big sky

That I would have used these little scissors to cut them short.

Because I can feel you tugging.

The dance of your hands half way round the world

Causing this old woman heart to kick like a mule whose never known the bridle.

So I’ll cross my legs, dig in deep and repeat to me myself and I this mantra:

I am not your shoulder.

I am not your crutch.

Your problems are your own.

And though I do care about you

I can not solve them for you.

And for us both to make it out alive

I can’t even help you.

So mind this hum inside my chest and along those wires round your wrists

I can’t help but sing it morning noon and night

Because that’s how often I wish it was different.

But it’s not

It’s still the same.

I am still her and you are still him

But I will not be your shoulder.

I will not be your crutch.