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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1620133
Rated: ASR · Other · Friendship · #1620133
It's about time she knew
Remember the day I said
This
Would never happen?
Did those words etch themselves into your memory
the way they did mine?

Maybe I should have told you
That ensuing silence protested
A sting of doubt,
a consideration of stillborn words:
a mourning unskilled,
drawn out and listless.

But I didn’t.
And the decade passed,
and oh-how-I-blasphemed
in the walls of the temple
knowing I was corrupted
even as I rose from the dead.

And soon you will know the truth of it all
as I trace my words in my breath on these panes
and take myself from this garden.
You won’t understand and I won’t ask you to,
And even though this isn’t original sin,
This
will do us in, I’m sure.

It is here where I fear your reaction,
the way the air will frame your words.
Though befitting and predictable, they will
sting like a thousand bees into a heart
you’d swear is hardened now.

But don’t you know I’d take it for you?
You
who leaves me bereft and aching
to crawl back
every time you smile.

You can’t know
How sorry I am to hurt you.

We've become a constellation without a name
And I'm afraid that after
This,
There will be nothing left to save.
© Copyright 2009 chicochica (chicochica at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1620133