Poetry, Prose

Im dissappointed.

Mostly at myself. A little at you.

I thought that communication was meant to be between two people. That when i spoke you would reply. That when i reached out i would find something to hold on to. And that something would be you.

It might be that i am not forgiven. That the things i did to you form a mountain so large that you cant get over it. All the bridges are burnt. All the castles we built in the sky weigh you down and are crashing into what used to be us. And we are nothing but broken pieces.

If that is true. Just tell me.

If there is anything i have learnt this year its that i can survive anything. So go on. Let the words fall out of your mouth, pebble after pebble. Let out the landslide. Ive never been afraid of mud. Let the rain pour, so i can dance.

I would rather dance than have to ask you the question one more time. I would rather be alone than feel like i am bothering you everytime i ask how you feel. When you should be the one telling me what goes on inside of you.

I have my pride. I will not nag. I will just let you go. Create my own rainstorm. So i can dance. On my own.

Ivy

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