The Unspoken

And then she reached deep into the hurt, disappointment and difficulty of being human…you know the stuff we all feel but many of us don’t speak of but most certainly project onto others in some form or another. Perhaps in the hearth with mugs of steaminess is a start to the eluding dialog, that or according of nicknames, those epithets with insecurities that you try to hide but they make their way to the surface with a new denomination. Something about sharing tea brewed in the same kettle and steadily and evenly pouring into mugs clinched by frigid digits and paying attention to one another…it’s a connection that we have not-so-delightfully forgotten. Emerging from our layers of protection with even a hint of curiosity for one another seems a distant past. Anything can happen if one is curious. Instead, days were stale. There’s nothing to create if stuck in suffering, only the pattern on repeat to play out. Inharmonious and incongruous, dark and spacey…I was always out of sorts in those places. He’s gonna make you cry. No, he’s gonna make me look within. Does it scare you to believe in me? Does it scare you to believe in you? Greatest failure or proudest moment…it’s the big question. When honesty becomes dangerous and with differences already looming…it just never was meant to be.

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