Tomorrow is Blank

Stephanie Bennett-Henry – Don’t write tomorrow today.

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

The silence was all you wrote, a secret passed along to everyone but me, changing hands, like trading stories, each version void of details, subtly heightened. Strange how certain things can empty me like a blank page longing for words to make it matter more, as though the ink will smear across the paper, penetrating my heart with the feeling from one fucking word. Sometimes that’s too much. Who am I to ask for more of what came before? It’s not for me to say your pain is any less or your feelings are much lower on a scale of one to ten. I can only judge my only feelings knowing I tipped the scales a long time ago, never knowing how to balance myself back closer to one. I’m all in or all out. There’s nothing wrong with that, in fact I prefer the ones who know how to…

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