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