[private] the ghosts that we knew,

[brigade]

He doesn’t know why he stays.

He couldn’t tell you why he hasn’t found some excuse or, if he was being honest, just walked away. He has not been known for his patience or his ability to care about others—lease of all strangers. But he does not feel any strong need to pick up his feet and move; he does not feel compelled to walk away.

Perhaps it is because she does not push him.

She doesn’t ask him to be anything but he is.

She doesn’t press him for more information.

She’s just there and there’s something like understanding in the sadness that pulls at the corners of her mouth. He sees himself in the shadows of it; he sees himself in the tautness of her mouth.

What he doesn’t see coming is her outpouring of feelings.

His brow furrows and he bites down until the muscles drag furrows across his jaw. He doesn’t reply right away because he struggles to find the words for it. Struggles to articulate everything that explodes in his chest because it makes him see stars, makes his teeth hurt with the honesty that she throws his way.

Finally, he is able to find the words, but they are stilted and short.

“I prefer to be lonely sometimes,” he manages and his gaze finds hers, searches for the core of it so that he could maybe find the ground again. “It’s better to be alone than hurt others.” He bites back the rest of his reality and looks away, swallowing all of the hurt and pain that feel like broken glass inch throat.

BRIGADE

when I was a man I thought it ended when I knew love's perfect ache
but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake