I came home pretty today
I came home late today
I came home different
Tarnished and touched
Marked… and for the first time I ache… not of guilt but of comprehension
You noticed nothing
Did not sense a thing
And while that has always been my aim it pains me
Because you’re suppose to be different
Because you claim to know me… in and out
Because you my friend claim to be true love… and yet you saw nothing
Yet I battle both sides because it would torture me if you ever knew the truth
Or would it even affect you to know?
I came home pretty
I came home late
I came home different today
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1 comment:
love the poem
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