The Unfought Battle

I practiced the words,

twisted them, turned them over,

built barricades of excuses

for the refusal I knew would come.

Prepared my face, my voice,

for the slight tilt of the head,

the 'I wish I could,'

the 'it's just not a good time.'

Then I called.

Spoke the request, thin and hesitant,

and you said, 'Yes, of course.

When do you need it?'

Just like that.

The silence on my end stretched.

I felt the knot in my chest

unfurl, not slowly, but too fast,

leaving a hollow, a strange ache.

It was easier, almost,

when I knew how to fight.