The Year That Didn't Arrive

You didn't remember,

and your face didn't show

the weight of that September,

the day I can't let go,

the day that broke me,

where you couldn't see

what was happening,

how I was shattering,

how the moment was battering

me into pieces, while you

were just passing through,

unaware of what was true.

I nodded and moved on

because that's what you do

when the memory's gone

from someone, when they're new

to the story of your pain,

when you have to contain

it alone, keep rotten

privately, because they were kind

and you can't make them bear your mind.

Your face today was bright,

unburdened, free,

and I envied the light

you carried, the way you could be

untouched by what happened,

while I'm still trapped in.