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.