If I turned up at your door tomorrow, would you

think me broken, as we haven’t spoken

for a while, always the chin

held firmly, would you remember all

that I once did for you

or even the odd screw up, foul up,

because after all I am only human

and I have never labelled you perfect,

I have never seen you as the fixer

of the busted, the shattered or the ruined,

I have just seen you as the friend,

the final one who might just understand

but to who I never wanted to bother,

thinking that I was just being petty,

stupid, a liability in which people

have finally had enough of;

If I turned up at your door tomorrow,

would you think me broken.

Ian D. Hall 2017