I can't know what you've gone through.
I just can't.
Maybe it's an identity thing.
You share with others, not me.
Maybe it's blindness.
Something I refuse to see.
If I see it one day, I'll apologise.
I hope it will be enough.
Because, I know that you've survived.
You're made of some tough stuff.
I can't know what you've gone through.
It would be slander to pretend.
That also means I can't feel it.
There will be no lies on my end.
But I can still see the suffering.
And so with your permission.
I'll simply be a shoulder.
And an ear, with which to listen.
***
https://harryisapoet.blogspot.com/2018/05/i-cant-know.html
