The Weight and the Reach
I once held space for your storms, open hands, steady ground, but the rain never came my way— you chose silence over shelter.
Now the road is lined with faces you once turned to instead, I hope they catch you softer than the fall you never let me break.
Help was never distant, just beyond the weight you carried. Guilt is a heavy thing to hold, but not heavier than reaching out.
If the past was too steep to climb, why would now be any different? You've chosen your hands, may they be steadier than mine.
And if one day you reach with honesty, with truth bared, nothing concealed, know that the offer I made five months ago in that hotel room still stands. But I will not entertain shadows— no lies, no half-truths, no hidden facts.
The only difference between you and me? You would leave me to die for another man, while I, even now, could be a shoulder in need. But this time, with boundaries. -Anindya 26th February 2025, 16:00 PM.
