image retrieved from thatbohemiangirl.tumblr.com

And what hurt me most,

About that whole affair

Is when you said to him,

Handle her with care.

She’s weak, you see, despite

That strong veneer.

That hurt, my friend,

Like a fresh cut, etching

A new label into my flesh.

You’ve known me

Through it all,

Though so easily you forget

Those moments I sat with you

Bare boned and bloodied,

A mess of tears, and fears,

Without reserves.

And yes, I falter, and yes

I still despair, and sometimes

I feel fragile, but the evidence

To contrary lies in my still

Standing here.

Deign to call me weak,

My friend, come on

I dare.


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