Could we just be honest —
just for once be plain and simply honest?
We dance around the elephant
pretending it’s a mouse,
and I am tired of playing the game.

I am measuring your reaction,
watching closely for signs
that you recognise the futility
of continually covering this gaping wound
with a cartoon band-aid.
I am listening for permission
to amputate the rotting flesh.

And as I walk away
I curse myself once again
for being too afraid
to speak the truth.

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