Unspoken

I can’t tell you how much I miss those Saturdays—

dragging myself out of bed,

grumbling that I’d rather stay home.

I’d give anything now

for one more early morning with you.

I can’t tell you how much I miss our drives—

windows down,

dirt roads that felt like a second home.

Just us, the hush of the countryside,

your wisdom like lyrics to my favorite song.

The silence now feels wrong.

I can’t tell you I miss our arguments,

voices raised not in anger

but in stubborn love—

both of us too fierce

to let it go.

I can’t tell you I’m lost without your hand

guiding me forward.

I pull on your old jacket in the cold,

pretending it’s you

holding me close.

I can’t tell you how unfair it feels

to lose you before I was ready

to do this alone.

I can’t tell you how fear grips me

when life turns sideways,

when nothing feels steady or clear.

You’d tell me it was fine,

and I’d believe you completely—

even when you were making it up

just to soothe my restless mind.

I can’t tell you I don’t know how to be strong

without you here to see me try.

I can’t tell you these things out loud,

because you’re not here to hear them.

But my soul speaks them in the hush between worlds,

hoping you’re listening—

certain you are.