Broken
I do not walk
on eggshells
but on broken glass
sharp shards slicing
into the soles of my feet
Yet I will continue
my trek forward
for it will hurt no less
to stand still
I will continue to
call out the
single syllable
of your name
into the dreary darkness
though my throat
grows dry and my voice
weak and weary
for it will hurt no less
to stay silent
I will continue to
hang onto hope
though the friction
of that rope
leaves the palms
of my hands
red and raw
for it would hurt far more
not to love you
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