It was the vulnerability in those eyes.
Staring, imploring in heart-breaking sincerity
For the respect you more than deserve.
It was then I saw the fathoms of your hurts.
Arms became makeshift tourniquets,
Staunching wounds buried in time;
Perseverance became not weakness but strength.
Not breaking fortified the heart;
Left it open and scarred—
Armed to weather another assault.
Vows have no credence in word,
Stale to brittleness once told.
If promises swear to hold ardently true,
Only actions sow solace anew.
What comfort is to be given but hope,
Repaving the worn roads of woe.
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