Wednesday, August 1, 2012


A heavy memory that weighs on my eyelids is of you telling me not to pry. It’s nights like these that make me wish I hadn’t respected you enough to listen. Should have pushed a nerve so you gave into talking and shared what you felt. Regret keeps lingering on every question I didn’t ask, and how every time I saw you I felt your sadness and didn’t mention it. You told me not to pry.

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