Crossed Lines

I felt the pen scratch, jagged and raw,

every word a battle with silence's lore.

Each letter a twist in a story unwound,

a half-hearted apology that barely resounds.

Old friend at the cafe, like a ghost from the past,

reminded me how much I'd buried, I'd cast.

And still, here I am, holding my breath,

knowing I stumbled, yet craving the mess.

What if the truth is too heavy to share?

A burden I'm pulling, a weight that I wear.

But those faded moments breathe life into me,

with their awkwardness, tangled like roots of a tree.