In your cringe

and bite

following another’s ignorant words,

pain.

Not the pain of a current slash of the knife

but of a gash inflicted long before self and other

stepped far enough apart to decide, even,

if they wanted to dance.

Knowing requires time, 

recognition of habit a road winding into distant hills-

the shape your tears will mimic.

May strength and a giggle well up

along with each salty drop.

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