I’m not asking for your apology
I just want silence, even if it looks like pain.
I just want distance, even if we’re still close by.
And you?
I don’t really care to know.
I’ve poured all I feel into verses laced with ache
about someone whose name I no longer whisper in prayer,
someone who chose to betray both himself and those who loved him.
Chance;
a single word,
yet it holds so many meanings.
If given a chance,
I would never have chosen this person to lead a family.
If given a chance,
I would’ve spared a mother the weight of a wound she never voiced.
That is what “chance” really means.
But everything feels so easy
when we live in “what ifs.”
When all seems fine on the surface,
but underneath—
a deep, dark hole waits,
never fully seen.