Invitation Left Open

The invitation slipped loose, yellowed with time,

cracked ink blurring the date we never kept.

No ring, no vows, just paper that holds

the weight of a promise folded too tight.

Edges brittle, stained by things unsaid,

the photo spot empty, a ghost where faces might’ve been.

I held it like a secret too sharp to share,

the silence louder than any toast or song.

There was no altar, no dress trailing behind,

just the rustle of forgotten plans

and the slow falling away of what could’ve been.

An empty invitation—too real to burn,

a reminder held tight, frayed but not gone.