shun | poetry

Yogyakarta, 2017.

the bottom of your lungs
breaking and trembling
as you hold her hand.
because it is not mine,
as you wish, once you told me.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 

the truth hurts you so bad;
my face is the ache you keep
within your smile. deeply, softly.
and my smile is the knife you keep
underneath your pillow.
either to hurt,
or keep you safe.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

you didn’t lose me,
you lose yourself.
but, you blame me.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

shun.

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