The Same Door
Time has a way of healing,
But only superficially.
The scars remain forever,
In this deeply wounded reality.
The hurt tends to go undercover,
As long as we don't face one another.
But the sensitivity comes alive once more
Should we happen to walk through the same door.
It's a feeling much like an old, once-broken bone;
One knows, feels, an oncoming storm.
Outwardly, we smile and carry on;
Inwardly, we wage a war of our own.
Both knowing that one of us is to blame,
Both knowing the other one still feeds the flame.
Yet, neither of us wanting to share
Either of the two burdens which we bear.
Which of us suffers more
When we walk through the same door?