The Sting

The sharp sting of pain.

I wasn't ready.

I didn't see it coming.

Not a brutal blow.

Just a quick unexpected slice that drew blood.

And forced me to hold back hot tears.

Unintentional.

An error in judgement.

A failure to communicate.

Yet that couldn't stop the bleeding.

Heal the wound.

Or take away the ache.

I wasn't allowed retreat.

I couldn't save my pride.

My wound was bare and exposed.

I was bare and exposed.

Few have witnessed my pain.

Even fewer have stood by my side,

To help heal the wounds.

Not abandoned.

No attempt at flight.

No avoidance.

A refusal to walk away.

I was allowed my voice.

A determination to sort through it all.

My pain's existence was recognized.

A willingness to accept responsibility.

No intent to brush away my emotions.

He wouldn't give up on me.

On what might be.

Katherine