Silt

I counted every grain of sand and realised it's not enough.

Not for the stories that still live inside my head.

Not for the plans I have prepared.

Not enough to make up for all the things left unsaid.

I'm dropping them too quickly.

They are slipping through my hands.

Gone.

I remember the games we used to play.

Dirty feet on trampolines, forts and sticks and sand piles.

And laughter. So much laughter.

We never had much, but we were richer than anyone else I ever knew.

Even now.

I remember how it hurt when you left.

You said it wasn’t me.

You were never any good at lying.

I don't think I ever apologised for holding the silence too long.