Don’t you do that.Don’t you look at what I had for you and call it weak.Not when you were the one afraid of it. I stood there with my hands open,my mouth bruised tender with supplication.Don’t you dare treat me like a victim of my own emotions,like being moved to my knees by lovewas a mistake that I regret.I will go to my grave with the memory of the bravery in my bones.
― Caitlyn Siehl,
What We Buried
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