I am important. To me
you don’t seem bothered. At all.
You don’t put time in – with me
it’s all work and business like.
I’d love to rescue a piece
of something useful from this –
the history shared by us then
has made us men, and shattered us.
I’m not important. To you
I’m part of brokenness. Trying
to live a better way. But
just tell me how you’re doing.