You told me-
I could be honest,
With my emotions

And here I am,
Being blunt

Without shaming me,
Would you have accepted it
As easily as it was to
Flick a knife out of its sheath

But lately,
I learned something from you

That it was okay to cry
It was more than okay to talk
About the beasts that held me down

In simplest terms,
I miss you,
The way a duckling misses it's mother

And that was petty

I wasn't sorry,
For getting attached-
I was sorry,
For letting you know the way I did

When a flower gets its petals ripped
Does it get back up?
Is it useless then after?

Or-
Does it-

What happens then?

I'm sorry,
But I'm not