I never said it
I never said it
not when the rain slid down the window
like the tears I swallowed beside you,
not when your laugh cracked the silence
and I memorized it
like scripture.
I folded the words like origami,
tucked them in the corners of my chest,
hoped they’d bloom into something
less fragile than
“stay.”
I watched the seasons change your eyes
from wildfire to winter,
and still I said nothing,
only nodded
as if I knew how to let go.
Now, the echo of you
rattles around in the rooms of my thoughts
where I wrote a thousand letters
and sent none.
They sit there still
soft with dust,
loud with everything
I was too afraid
to say.
