For years

It has been quiet all these while. The silence has grown so fond of me that he would never leave.

I’m not a captive of the hollowness, but a coward of a defeated kingdom. There isn’t any initiative for the fear of failing again and there is no chance.

I hold back my words; reality has robbed me off my speech. I wouldn’t hesitate if there is a “yes” for at least once. I’m just not that lucky.

It has been years since promises are not kept. They might be white lies or causal remarks, perhaps, excuses to refuse.

If maintaining this spells happiness, let it be.

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