If I could understand this tightness that sits so heavy inside my chest, that when the mirror is finally revealed, the sheet drawn back, I would understand myself and you better. The thoughts of my own actions replicated in this parallel world haunt my very bones for it’s the pain I refused to acknowledge in you. For me, I know, it’s nothing but a light patter of raindrops to the ensnaring tempest you had to endure. 
Surely, the grass it grows after the storm, but the home has been destroyed. The questions you ask me, their answers elude us both for they tremble at the thought of realisation. Under the rocks of healing scars, they wonder.

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