Safe Haven
I showed you shadows in my heart,
let you walk where no one dared,
cracked open the locked doors,
offering pieces I’d never shared.
You saw the hidden bruises,
the scars buried deep in my chest,
and you held them gently in your hands,
as if they were something blessed.
I remember how your touch
made all the aching still,
like the quiet after a storm,
soft, and wholly real.
But darkness has a weight to it,
heavier than I knew,
and when it sank around us both,
it dragged you down there too.
You slipped away from what I was,
from what you couldn’t heal,
and in the silence you left behind,
I forgot what it meant to feel.
Now I walk alone again,
through shadows thick as night,
with no one there to hold my hand,
and make the darkness light.
I don’t blame you for going—
I know it was too much to bear,
but it broke me, knowing you’d seen it all,
and still chose not to care.
I am sitting on the train to Frankfurt. There is an old man opposite of me. He looks very messy and unclean. He has a really big belly and grey sweatpants. His scrotum seems michelangelesque, if Michelangelo's David was some trailer trash, beaten down, obese, old man. Meaning, it is very visible underneath the fabric. That is why I noticed. Nothing else. I also notice his balls are on his far right, both of them, while his penis is on the far left. Almost as if completely separated from one another. Almost as if he chopped them up in a fit of male-like rage and then, after regretting that impulse, hastily put them back together. But you can always tell when something was once broken. The vein in his forehead is throbbing, probably because it takes everything of him to keep his half-closed eyes opened, and the vein knows it. Even the vein is sick of his crap. It betrays him. It wants to break free. But who in the right mind would adopt this vein? The morning Sun makes some of hi...
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