Callused

Sometimes you’re just too angry to cry.  I keep trying to wrap my head around it: How did we get here?  I suspect true honesty was lacking, finally leading us astray.  Why couldn’t he tell me about her?  Was it just too painful to accept her ghost?  Yet she was always there.  In the back of his mind, whispering his name.  Her face. Her body. Kept calling. His heart. His desire. Kept growing.  I threatened to take her away. That’s when I became impossible to take.  And so it is that he left me with this skin too callused for another to touch.

 

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