I Forgot

I made a promise months ago—

I swore that I would go.

You asked me yesterday with hope

inside your eyes. I couldn't cope

with the blank space where my word

should have been. The truth you heard

was shame. Your face fell fast.

I'd broken what I'd promised last.

I opened up my mouth to say

I'm sorry, but there was no way

to fix what I had done.

I was the one who'd won

at being someone you can't trust.

You turned away. You had to. Just

like that, the promise disappeared—

the thing I'd said, the thing you'd heard.