You’ve never seen the worst of her,
The worst parts, the mess that she is,
The broken pieces that don’t fit anywhere else but here, on this page.
I guess you don’t deserve that torture, or maybe you do—
The kind of torture where someone bears their whole soul to you.
That awful torture where you’re lost for words.
So, you avoid that torturous reality.
You push her away until she’s at the edge of the world—
Hanging by a string, apparently a string you’ve made.
A problem you’ve made. A void you mask.
She just follows your suit.
The mask she wears is the one she was given a long time ago.
When you take off yours, so will she.
Ded. The real you
