we came together
us three,
and made one
one body of,
shock
shame
and shackles-
an all too familiar ringing that dialed up our PTSD
while we answer it’s call with emasculated concession
and dignified contempt-
at the table in silence
jovial…
just hours before
when all seemed,
if not all together, gained
then, to be
but now
we sink simultaneously
scarred
scared
somber
and solemn…
a sacred vulnerability of pain shared for the weight of its implication
not just upon us
but also upon our loved ones
and to the world…who cares?
and to our families…who else would care?
and to us…why should we care any longer?
because this is too heavy to feel alone
even saved almost,
by the company of symbiotic or Siamese misery
sitting in silence
breaking it’s cloud over our fears and pains
with awkward jokes to lighten our disposition
all the while,
never mentioning the full extent of what’s being felt
because big boys don’t cry
alone,
nor
together
…
enough said
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