I wish I could hate you,
but the city won’t let me file that form.
The window says maintenance.
The cursor thinks I’m exaggerating.
I wish I were the variable you needed,
the constant you solved for without notes,
instead I’m the margin math you erase
before anyone sees what it cost.
You were the answer I would not speak.
I was the question you refused to read.
How could you grasp the bruise of staying
when I learned to pass inspection by not bleeding.
I was the question you refused to read.
How could you grasp the bruise of staying
when I learned to pass inspection by not bleeding.
I kept a seat for your arrival.
Gate open, announcement pending.
The board kept changing times,
and I kept pretending clocks were loyal.
I waited like infrastructure:
quiet, load-bearing, unpraised.
I set out the cups, labeled the drawers,
trained my hands not to shake when nothing arrived.
I told myself not to blame myself.
Then translated blame into efficiency:
reduce warmth, conserve motion,
call the ache a policy decision.
I wish I could hate you,
but you were the exit I memorized in a burning room.
I wish I could hate you,
so I could walk out without counting the steps twice.
You never came. That’s the headline.
The footnote says I understood.
Understanding is the softest prison.
Doors open, sentence ongoing.
So I archive the noise,
live at a volume that passes for peace,
and keep the light like a statistic:
low, steady, deniable.
live at a volume that passes for peace,
and keep the light like a statistic:
low, steady, deniable.
If anyone asks, it’s about weather.
About timetables. About a house that keeps its shape.
Only I know it’s a body relearning
how to leave without leaving.
how to leave without leaving.
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