What You Never Told Me
You never said
the hurt was too much,
your heart that heavy.
I would have stopped the world
so you could breathe.
I would have buried the storm clouds,
painted the whole sky blue for you.
I would have stolen the moon
just to keep the sun from setting.
I would have held the seasons still—
kept the leaves forever green,
chased the snow away,
warmed the frozen ground
so spring could dry your tears.
I would have caught a rainbow
and bled its colors back into your dreams.
But you never told me.
I never saw.
Now your absence drowns me.
You took the air when you left.
All the love I kept for you
haunts me now.
The hope I meant to give you
has turned hard in my hands.
I should have felt you slipping.
I should have heard the quiet breaking.
I should have known.
I would have carried every bit of your pain
if you had let me.
I wish you would have told me.