I'm sitting outside, on the wet pavement steps. you're inside, conversing with the friends you love and the friends I lost. have I lost you? I think I've lost myself.
you were crying this morning, and I didn't know what to do about it. I could only watch in a stony silence as water ran from your puffy eyes down your cheeks and then to your lips, the same lips that had earlier told me your half-apologies. you've hurt me, so, so many times. why is forgiveness my automatic response? deep down, I don't forgive you. you hurt me again and again and again, and you've never owned up to it. maybe you're scared, and I'm scared, too. of what?
I don't know yet.
YOU ARE READING
SOFTIE
Poetrysure, my heart is fragile, but my mind is strong. sure, I talk quietly, but I will stand for what I think is right. sure, I'm a softie, but there's bravery in being soft.
