Untitled (For an Old Poet, IV)

My dearest,
my precious dreamer,
I am sorry.

This was one again
not the story we wanted;
it was the disturbance I swore to protect you from.

And I did⏤

As much as I could,
as much as I was capable,
as much as I could give you everything
for everything is what you deserve.

But you must understand,
my dearest,
I am only an angel,
but one of many in the world
outside of your dreams.

And as I’ve written before
and most assuredly will write again,
even the avoidable hurt
is unavoidable;
as much as I would like
to bleed rivers of ink
so you did not have to feel it.

My dearest, my dreamer,
even amongst all of this,
the betrayal we’ve felt,
the fragments we’ve collected,
the glass we’ve stepped on,
I can assure you
I will always be here
to watch you dream.

And I can also promise you,
my dearest,
my old poet,
that I will always fight our battles,
even when the losses
feel far more weighty
than the wins.