You wanted to listen and I had waited my whole life to pour out the words. But when you came along, the cup was dry, the words had been buried deep down, stuck at the bottom of the cup, bottom of my throat. I couldn’t remember what they were. And there you were, expecting.
I’m sorry for my silence. Believe me, I wanted to scream the words. I’m sorry I shut you down when you were curious. Believe me, I wanted to share every part of me. I wanted to talk.
Dreams. Fears. My favourite colour. The pain. The child in me. How much I loved you. But I had spent so much time having no one to listen I had forgotten how to speak. Would it have been too much to ask for your patience while I found the words again?
Because I can hear them so clearly in my head now but you’ll never know. Because you’re not here to listen anymore.
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