skeletons and bones, creeping and whispering in
the crevices of you[rs.]
The lullings and hopings that you
cannot give up
The faces and voices of the dreams you promised
never to let fade.
The devastation of the leaving and the windings of roads that have no ends or beginnings, but that you cannot bring yourself to diverge from.
The temptation of letting the hurting suffer in isolated silence,
containing and cauterizing wounds that someone else made,
Yet knowing this will never be enough to silence the whisperings
that your joy is imminently entwined with the removal or addition of some kind of joy
[perverse games? ingenuine flauntings?]
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