Some Days

Some days the sun doesn’t set fast enough, as though the days just drag on and the shadows languish in the open.
In the depths of night, in the darker recesses of the corners and the alley ways and the thickness of the trees there are places one can find comfort and safety from the evisceration of daylight.
When the heart and the breath succumb to hurt and pain, where do you hide under the sun?
When memories begin to fade and the role they’ve played in your relationships with those involved deteriorate, and what you’ve known to be the truth is now subjective and your new days are born of anguish and fear, how do you enjoy the light of day?
After you’ve opened your chest for all to see and it feels as though someone has stuck their fist inside and ripped out portions of your heart, how do you continue, how do you dare share what’s left with others?
Where is the nocturnal security of the moon, and the faint light it casts upon you without exposing all the agony of your injuries?
Some days the sun just doesn’t set fast enough, and it feels like a spotlight upon you whilst your tied to the whipping post, the only blessing is the burn as its rays penetrate your wounds.
Some days.

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