His words cut the deepest wounds in my fragile flesh.

My vulnerability of attempting to clean up the blood was only

failed by missed calls and fits on unbearable confusion.

A sever so deep that it left my bones exposed,

that not even a stitch could heal. 

He walked away with my questions left unanswered and a 

conscious filled to the brim with insecurities.

If you asked him how he felt, he'd probably look away in fear of

exposing any emotion. A coward hidden beneath his layers too afraid

to convince, even himself, that it's okay to mourn.

He was always 5 steps ahead of me,

dreaming of the next place he could be.

And whilte I tried running as fast as I could to catch up,

hanging onto the little breath that I had,



I always stayed behind,

rag in hand,




cleaning up the blood.  

                                                   orion carloto