what if I told you the dark spaces I have been the war I fought spoke into ink the things I don’t give voice to easily what if I showed you how bad it got how deep the hole how rough the cut if I let you in to this thing I have stitched up with thin skin and therapy would you trace the scars and think less of me would you see a wounded thing would you look at it differently
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never. i think more of you, dear friend. goodness your way with words.