That dull ache low in your belly. A sharp pain in your back. The ache of being betrayed. 

Of all the flowers in the garden, I am not the brightest; make no mistake however, for you cannot forget my bloom. Painting do not adorn my pale skin. Though my heart is pierced, my body is only slightly done. 

I describe myself in such a manner because it is often the loudest cry that implores to be heard. I do not cry loudly. I do not scream. I am silent in my ache. It does not lessen the pain of any blow that comes to me. It is amplified because I cannot and will not cry out. I will bear the pain simply because I can. 

Love, sadness… These emotions are not competitions. My pain is not more than yours. Yours is not more than mine. We each bear our sadness in our own manner. I will sit here quietly and mourn in my own way. I will absorb your ache because I love unconditionally and I am unable to hold back from doing so. Yet, please remember I too feel the sharpness in my back. 

I will bear the misery.

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