I wiped her cheeks with my shirt sleeve as she asked with her voice still shaking, "do you know why", she pauses, whimpering as she chokes on heartbreak, coughing it up she delivers, "I'm crying?", finally finds release as if being suffocated.
Her question immobilized me. How could I answer her knowing the truth would be more devastating than the LIE? She wasn't stable and here we were trapped in the shadows of her pain. “What scars have already been opened?”, I questioned, searching for the softest blow that would breathe hope into her uncertainty. Answers didn’t come leaving me to console the emptiness that either knowing or not knowing would manifest.
She was already riddled with old injuries, like stab wounds to the face that won’t heal. I didn't need to see them with my eyes, my heartfelt them. As each tear descended a new hole emerged leaving a pathway from where it’s been as if footprints left in the pain of where it’s going. I padlocked my mouth in a stay of silence as she pleaded from a place not even God knows so I held her as tightly as I could to stay the hurt watching her tears cut through her pain.
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