Catch-22.

I wish I could forget yesterday,
legs curled in,
leaning against the only exit
on the far side of the room.

It took an act of bravery to
let you read my thoughts,
written in tired ink and unruly musings.

I couldn't even meet your eyes
until halfway through.

Once I found my voice
and met your gaze,
the cynicism set in.
My words, biting.
Nothing you offered
could reassure me.

You said you cared about me,
and were very worried.

I don't know how to hold
that reality in my heart.

I don't want to be anyone's concern.
I wish I could forget.
I wish I could take it all back.

But holding it in often hurts more.