it's because i
know, that it hurts even more. it really does.
but it's not your fault. it's neither your fault, nor mine. it's not even His'.
fragile. like a morning glory freshly picked at dawn, with its life cradled in warm gentle hands. i want to keep it blooming. you very much want that too.
then tell me, why is it so hard?
why.somehow
no answer's going to satisfy me.
no answer's relevant.
none of them are acceptable.
Labels: wounded
