by Asma.

Your bones don’t ache as much as your soul does,

And neither do your words bleed as much as your heart does.

Would you like to hear a story, the one I told you on the night your lamb died?

Or should I just lay here and quietly rock your tears to sleep?

Tell me if you have anything to say.

Tell me if you want me to stay.

I will.

I always have.