I once wondered if you were ever going to speak. However,
it was not long before
I had learned the your lips had been sewn shut
with the strings, thick yarns, and twine of
depression, unease
and betrayal.
Such trivial things like string and yarn were simple enough to slice open.
With simple ways such as
the slice of a seductive and loving tongue,
or the swipe of a hand
caressing ones cheek,
in the most loving of ways.
But twine,
betrayal,
is so much hard to untangle.
Your twine had mangled you lips,
adding to the infection that
your kisses brought.
I tried to untangle the mess, but to no avail,
at times I came close,
at others,
I only seemed to do more damage.
One day,
something amazing happened,
you tore out the twine yourself.
Scars dawned your beautiful face.
So here we sit,
in utter silence,
both of us prisoners
of all too real disease.
I suppose,
loneliness is just much too sad a
conversational topic.
So here we sit in our silence,
only harming ourselves,
with what is not said.
Author's Note:
I once said that
Sometimes, it is what is left unsaid, that hurts us the most in the end.
Then my friend disagreed and wrote
"True words, but it's when we don't have any more chances to say what we feel that we feel true regret."
To which I could not disagree, but I found that I agreed completely.
