I hurt for you.
With your words you told us to roar like women.
When I called for you, silence.
I hurt for hurting you.
Shame is not what I want you to feel.
Pain is not what I want for your soul.
“You did your best,” as they say.
I don’t know what it would have been like to have lived your life for a day.
I know you were hurt.
I know you wanted more love.
I overheard your stories that were never meant for my young ears.
I wonder why you didn’t save me.
You must not have been able to see through your tears.
I hurt for myself.
For what has gotten us here.
As I lay these words down though, I start to lay down my fears.
It is right to speak my story. I doubt you would agree.
It is right to speak the truth of what your hurt has made of me.