quite’s obvious. cuts.

i have this way
of waiting. for truth
in a tangle of accommodation,
i count days until
honesty. return to my sad
hollow core knowing no-
thing attempting to
attach. sticking on top of
a ripped scab pulsing
secret years. time untold
unravelling skin. bones
break to this. understanding
i can agree to anything.
i can accept, just… because.
his blue eyes are too far
away. i allow emotion
spilling down my face.
awaiting. what. never
returns absorbing illness.
one person awaits and
inside understanding is brittle.
with lips stitched shut.
addiction never became
as evident as most
evident carves my silence.