I don’t know how to get to you, where you are buried invisible and small. Your voice not a whisper, but the perfect volume oh, despite what the other voices say. Your opinions are bottled, sealed. Do you know them? Hear them? I will dig here in this hard ground because I miss you, miss remembering you. In this place where lie the consequences of a quietly silenced heart. This post appeared originally at jenniferjcamp.com
