the tilted umbrella

me.
i am a shelterer.
hold me
and i will endure the storm for you.
trust me
and i will hold your grief upon myself.
i will suffer pain so you may live and love
in peace.
i have been shelved.
in a dim closet.
afraid.
i am not your favorite toy.
i am not your preferred emblem of happiness.
i remind you of darkness.
of devastating floods
and black
and sadness
and death.
you must not spend time enraptured by me.
i can only drag you down.
but when the thunder claps in harmony
you reach for me
and off we go.
i am happy.
you are happy.
but once again i am a disappointment.
what i was created for i cannot do.
i am tilted.
bent.
crooked.
and the rain splashes down upon your face.
the passersbys shake their heads.
the other umbrellas remain erect
with smirks.
they are able to take the day's beating.
but i
i am imperfect.
weak.
vulnerable.
you will find a new one.
i knew myself wise not to name you my best friend.
i cannot trust you.
for i cannot be trusted.