You traded thunder
for a whisper’s trace,
a painted mask
for a living face.
If silence is the crown you wear,
then wear it —
but don’t pretend
it’s gold.
And it kills me to know you’ll never ache like I do,
You’ll walk away laughing, I’ll limp with the truth.
If this is the cost of the love that I gave,
Then carve out my chest and lay me in the grave.
I want to slice myself open, splay my truth
Lay it bare beneath your shadowed gaze
Every tender thread, tangled and ruthless
As if pain were the only honest phrase