I’m leaving Portland
And all the snow capped mountains God has tugged up towards the sky
Grateful, hopeful, loving
Your voice comes in
Bitter leaking through kind words,
Hurt disguised as clarity
I wish sometimes we could just speak clearly
Tell each other the small ways in which we feel wronged
Tend to the wounds already plastered with bandaids
Instead of drawing our sleeves down over the cuts - delivered, not read
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