The Wedding That Wasn’t

An unopened envelope lies

pressed flat between dog-eared pages.

Outside, laughter and glasses clink

on a broadcast I can’t turn off.

No flowers, no music, no vows—

just the quiet apartment, the stillness.

I never showed up to a day I imagined,

a ghost in a room I walked away from.

I fold the paper, crease it again—

a promise I never made,

a gathering I never claimed,

a life untouched by the loudness

of celebration or its hollow echo.