The Apologies That Never Arrived

They told me time heals,

but time has only stretched the silence.

Every morning, I wait for a message,

every evening, I hope for footsteps—

yet neither comes.

There were apologies

that should have been mine to hear,

soft words that might have stitched

the wounds left raw by your absence.

But they never arrived.

Instead, I learned to live

with unfinished sentences,

with promises that crumbled

before they found air.

It is strange how silence

becomes its own language—

sharp enough to cut,

heavy enough to drown.

And still, I keep listening,

as if echoes of apologies

might slip through the cracks of the night.

Because forgiveness is not a door

I lock against you;

it is the waiting chair I keep

beside the fire,

for a guest who may never come.

Thanks you so much for reading.💜💜💜