Simple
Everyday encounters.
No words exchanged,
No second glances.

Blank faces
So used to keep inside
What’s vulnerable,
Or painful.

No doors are open,
For fear
Of what might come inside,
Or what might glance outside.

Fingers burned
So often
They’ve learned
To constantly withdraw.

Deep scars
Draw detailed maps
Telling the history
Of lost battles.

The hidden cost
Of going down
With all guns blazing
Is never cheap.

It’s always difficult
To accept that sometimes
You have to dare
To retreat.