Truth Be Told

Having said the truth be told, I find you crooked in a fitting mold. Trembling, hiding in a shattered mask, in an empty corner, below an avalanche. Afraid to ask you what made you this pale, I, instead, sit across from your countenance, so frail. Lifting my hand, I want to touch your face, our eyes quickly met with a burning gaze. You threw me back, speechless, I became. You threw me back to your solemn days. I feel what you felt on empty plates, I feel what you felt.