Things that I cannot tell you

Like how I get it that your roots are darkened by circumstance, sadness etched into your skin from birth. Yet you never escaped and instead clung to shadows like they gave you some sort of comfort. 

I cannot tell you how – 

I hid inside my music and broke my fingers on the piano 

hoping if I played loud enough you would hear me 

even then you weren’t moved.

How I tried to search for you –  

in every man that held my hand; seeking a silent safety 

in all the gods, praying at Their feet

Many times I was so close to falling. 

I cannot tell you how 

your demons woke me every night drooping over my bed; 

I was always ready to save you. 

I was that little girl that watched you 

knotted up in distractions and books and everything else

that was not me.  

You don’t even remember the day I left. 

One day I thought I’m never going to be enough 

to be loved 

by you.  

A sad truth that stuck with me for so long – 

and I cannot tell you how wrong I was. 

I cannot tell you how  

you were incapable of love. 

I will never blame you for your absence 

for I am grateful for the space you left. 

In those cracks I found a soothing stillness 

in the solitude, a gift of meaning.

*

I forgave you long ago but there’s things that I cannot tell you 

and you would never hear me 

anyway.