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what haunts me isn't the loss of love β it's the way i stood in its light & still turned my face away. there were hands that reached for me, a quiet kind of devotion i didn't know how to hold. & yet i stayed & starved myself beside it, hoping the hunger would feel more real than the risk of being fed. so now, in the silence i chose, i live with the echo of all i didn't say. not unloved. not forgotten. just unable to accept the very thing i longed for.
β€· οΉ #LAMBFALLEN οΉ β an independent, highly selective, & mutuals only cowboy oc ; narrative themes & portrayals rooted in the burden of self - knowledge, the weight of the past, & inarticulable grief. brewed lovingly by mocha.
