Did you know the stories I told you
had never even formed
words
before today
and I felt the need to fight
tears
as they slipped off my tongue
so tender with notes of misery
like licking powder off the
sharpest razorblade

In my words I handed you
pieces
of me
Ones no one has ever seen
let alone been trusted with
Pieces even I never knew
could find seperation
from myself

Somehow...
there was comfort found in peeling scabs
off the most carefully avoided
wounds

I'd let them bleed out every tainted
secret
Would this feeling remain:
...this...
sense of your understanding

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