AND when that one for me will finally come, when he holds my hands, with their rough palms and broken lines and ask me what i did while waiting for him.
i will not hide my past;
how i fed on leftover affection, while working as a carpenter, building homes to people i will never be part of.
i will not hide how i carried pounds of lies on my back, while hoping the structure i was building would host me at the end.
i will not hide that i part-timed in falling floors down, while nailing roofs for the rooms of hearts i will never have a chance to touch the pillow at night.
i will not hide the broken bones i got, the scars from the rough touch of time, and burnt from the risks i took.
i will not hide my palms, their broken lines of hope; i will not hide myself.
i will not leave it a secret that i loved some other people for him-
because i know, he would love me the same;
as he also did the same.
#T
Comments
Post a Comment