˜"*°•.˜"*°• Dear young Khietharelys,
I am sorry. I am so sorry that you had to deal with depression alone, that every step you took felt like knives where jabbing at your feet. I am sorry, I am so sorry that the one man you trusted and gave your all to, tore you apart as if you meant nothing. He ripped at your skin, and pulled out your heart. I am so sorry that you allowed him to make you go cold. I am sorry, that you had to carry the weight of the world in one hand and pull the weight of depression like a chain on your ankles. I am sorry. I am so sorry, that your father broke your heart before any man could, I am sorry. I'm sorry your family was so dysfunctional that if you were to step up and say, "I want to kill myself." Everything would shatter. I am sorry.
March 28th, 2016 •°*"˜.•°*"˜
YOU ARE READING
Pale Soul Sea (#Wattys2018)
PoetryHe would chip away at my cold exterior dodging shards of ice until I was no longer hard, but even though he cracked through the surface. . . My heart would not melt.
