Its Tuesday. Its September. Its 2013.
The second Tuesday of September 2013.
For you, it could very well have been, once again, that fateful day so so many years ago. The day those acidic words were spoken spitefully into the gaping wound. One wound which, I saw, is painfully raw despite your feigned nonchalance. Time has not healed those wounds - yet another lie you were led to believe. It stood still, and flew backwards while the monstrous words regained their power temporarily. Useless lie. You smiled, flushed. Gushed about eye candy in one direction while you cast glances in the other.
It is but a mere glimpse of the pain that pervades.
There is more.
And it is immeasurable
In any other way,
except that it is not beyond
the reach of His great Hands.
The problem is,
those Hands,
they have chosen mine very own.
If it is true that we are to be vessels of Your love, would You not empower us then?
Should I have done anything more than laugh it off with you?
Could I have? In front of the rest?
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