Not my story.

I get so tired of the questions. How can I tell you what's wrong? How can I express how I feel? This story, it's not mine. Not this time. And I don't want to talk about it. What can I say?

Do you really want to hear? And is it because you're worried about me? About her? Or is it ghoulish requests for details you can shake your head and clutch your pearls over?

I won't parade her barely mended soul in front of the world to explain my tears. They're not for me. I will not tell a story that is not mine.

So I'll stay quiet, until we find out how the story ends.

I won't ask that you forgive my silence, but that you respect it.