Speak

The quiet scares me because it screams the truth.

The truth that you don’t remember me anymore.

Your calls don’t flash on my phone, no messages from you to light up the screen.

Maybe I was just a temporary confidante – you got your job done and now, I sit like a piece of discarded trash on the roadside.

And to think I trusted you, with everything. You trusted me too, didn’t you? That night, when we watched the passing time heal your burning wounds – would you have let anyone else in on that dark secret?

Maybe you could have, I don’t know, but you didn’t – it was just me.

Where does that leave me now? Your counsel, no longer required, trashed.

You could say hello, you know – it wouldn’t kill you.

 The silence is killing me.