The Rain On Monday

Written words are the only thing my mind can find ease in.


74. Unspoken

And it was the painful type of sob that was so soft and broken

that I heard on that night between the words left unspoken.

You insisted you were all right, you even had me fooled,

but my dear you don't have to smile when you know I'll hold you tight.

I saw the cuts on your arm, and then I showed you mine, too.

But my dear, please know, that when you cut you hurt me too.

You said that you never told me what was wrong because I never asked,

but my dear, it's the words unspoken that open up your past.

I left you a letter on the notepad by the door;

my sweetheart, you'll be just fine, you will not be hurt furthermore.

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