she never crossed the threshold
never saw the weight i carried
never met the pain i lived through
yet she held the power to deepen the silence

her family—ghosts at the edge of my story
absent but always looming
their knowing eyes turned away
while i struggled in the dark

they helped from afar, a distant echo
meds and food delivered
but no hands to hold, no visits to bridge the gap
as if my suffering was a tale too inconvenient to witness

the betrayal is not just in absence
but in the coldness that pretends it cares
the quiet that says i am less than worthy of presence

and still, their names haunt the corners of my life
a paradox of support and neglect
of caring that doesn’t dare meet the real me

this is the fracture line that runs deeper
than any wound i carry alone—
the family that never showed up
yet shapes the silence i wrestle with every day