Gutless: Growing Apart

 

Burned old journals when I felt a crushing shame begin to sear.
Started sweeping up the ashes of forgotten wasted years.

It’s so appalling, but some voids just cannot be filled at all.
Throw me another curveball.

Made a promise to myself: to bite my tongue through echoed wounds.
Made another promise that I would not stay hidden for so long.

Repress confusion. If my shroud comes off, we’ll be pulled apart.
Grown ashamed of all the arrows in my heart.

No one is counting the backwards steps we’ve taken.
Gone nearly silent, still we guard up.
Through smothered voices we distort past afflictions.
Remove each other from a sense of self.

No one is counting the backwards steps we’ve taken.
Gone nearly silent, still we guard up.
Through smothered voices we distort past afflictions.
Remove each other from a place where we felt whole and safe, before we learned we didn’t know ourselves.

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