Hard Cry, still inside.

{Source}

“Tomorrow,
I might bring you flowers,”
you said,
after the holiday.

I thought sadly:
as if love
could be bought on sale.

“I’ll bring you the leftovers”
and you’ll tell me,
“it’s fine,
stop cryin’”

And I did.

because really,
you had no idea
I was an afterthought
something I figured out
before you could or would

never

“I’m sorry,”
would have helped
but it was given
with hollow
and I felt the empty
and saw what
love isn’t and
how much we weren’t

Yet now, although free
sometimes this hurt
comes in and swallows
the hard cry
still inside
of me.

(c) Carolyn (Riker) Avalani