Gravel

We sat on the porch, wrapped in the quiet,

as she poured out her salvation,

a heavy gospel laid at my feet.

She recited her testimony like a script,

but never once left room for the breath of mine.

Somewhere in the silence of my unspoken words,

she measured my soul and found it lacking,

deciding the rescue was too steep,

the hour too late,

and I was a cause not quite worth the saving.

-

Then came the savior of another kind.

He built a fortress of absolute promises:

I will help you. I will never un-love you.

He claimed he held the map to my heart,

insisting he knew my shadows better than I knew myself.

Then his need for me simply vanished - I suppose.

I became the ghost in their rooms

-

Author’s Note:

Perspective is everything. While this poem captures the silence I experienced after being ghosted, I felt it was only right to give voice to the other side of the story as well: