Which one? I take it back.

By , Savage, MN

But when I felt it, I was automatically taken aback.
His sadness was more than anything my trembling frame could perceive.
It suffocated the few glimpses of light in my possession to sober up and confront.
It ushered me to be quiet, forcing the happy memories to become
nothing more than just our imagination.
He didn’t want me to see, but I always was worried.
The hands that fiercely pounded against his firmly shut door,
dissolve into tears that he tries so hard to wipe away.
He keeps blaming himself.
Sometimes the memories of him hurting come rushing back and I can't help but
desperately gasp for air.
He allows his legs to give out when his facade staggers and I choke back tears as I tightly grasp
the vulnerability he's letting seep out from his silhouette.






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