My mess is yours, your doubts are mine.
The way you hold my truth, I trust —
because you hand me yours, and just
pour out your fears like sweet, red wine.
I’m like a child — resist and whine.
My cares can leave me feeling trussed.
My mess is yours, your doubts are mine.
The way you hold my truth, I trust.
We let our weakness intertwine,
splash in the mud without disgust,
refuse to feed our wanderlust.
We know our love is genuine.
My mess is yours, your doubts are mine.
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POETIC FORM:
Rondel – a French form, similar to the rondeau and the triolet, consisting of 13 eight-syllable lines in three stanzas. Rhyme scheme = ABba/abAB/abbaA
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