The holding, the hiding one's self inside oneself. No one to see the scars behind the smile. Words of platitudes and gratitudes.
Keep it all hidden, the silently cracking heart. Let all believe it was what is was when in fact, inside one's self it still is.
Let the ice come in and numb the pain so no one will know the heart's suffering.
No hope left but still there is hope inside one's self. To say hope breeds suffering is true. But by any other name, waiting, wanting, holding space, is, still, hope. So one plays with words in folly to cover the suffering. But one's self still silently suffers inside oneself.
Copyright © Darla Tegtmeier | Year Posted 2018
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