The Joke That Unfolded

We laughed — my chest heaving, a cracked smile

frozen in the dim-lit room.

Words spilled like cheap wine,

easy, sharp, laughing at wounds

we thought were scars, not open cracks.

The punchline hung, sour as rot,

I chewed it over alone,

felt it go bad inside me —

not funny anymore.

Memory’s echo turned sharp,

a joke’s lightness dropped to stone,

and laughter turned to silence,

spilling awkward in the dark.