Whenever you tell me you love me and that you want me to stay, I feel both elated and ready to bleed at the same time.
For words are words no matter how reassuring they are when they are uttered.
This pain that I speak about in jest sometimes... is not at all funny. There is no humor in here.
But what else am I to do if seriousness drives you away?
If seriousness drags me deeper into the tunnels of dark thoughts?
I falter sometimes in my resolve to keep myself wrapped up in silence.
But sometimes, the silence escapes me.
Brief release...
Sigh... but the self-admonition that follows...
Dare I speak of it...?
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