And the pot called the kettle broken

We barely speak.

but in this moment she knows me better than you do

silver sisters don't say the words 

but they know 

why you've hidden yourself in the bathroom

I've never heard my named called out so softly

haven't heard sincere words from

any other mouth but yours in years

i was starting to think that it was justified

to look right past my tears

you see the problem with us

is that you are just. like. me.

my blood is your blood

and it's easy to lack empathy for someone

who reminds you of yourself

and the comfort fades into complacency

we weave ourselves into circles

what i say just fuels your rage

and what you say: just drop it babe

but my chest aches for a solution

a band-aid for the bitterness

I just want to forgive 

but forgiving you feels too much

like forgiving myself