His Choice

this is to my dad and a small capture of just a few minutes on the night everything broke.

The night was slow, or so it seemed,

a half‑slurred truth slipped through the seams.

A story told in a drunken voice,

but your confession was an internal choice.

The room stayed still, the walls held tight,

yet something shifted in the night.

I didn't speak, deep in the trenches of fears,

But underneath my eyes were shaky tears.

Morning came with its usual face,

the same old routine at the same old pace.

But something in the air felt thin,

and I couldn't shake off what just had been.

You looked at me like nothing broke,

as if what you said were just a joke,

as if the night would stay the same

once you had whispered someone’s name.

I learned to fold and keep my thoughts small,

Stubborn shadow pressed against the wall.

You carried on with practiced ease,

while I learned how to move and freeze.

The days went on, the house stayed bright,

but something flickered in the light.

You laughed like nothing stained the air,

while I stayed silent, trying not to tear.

After that, kindness felt far away,

I wanted to tell, but was too scared to say,

So for now, I'll keep your secret tucked inside,

Trapped beneath your heartwrenching lies.

Maybe one day you'll do this again,

I hope I'll get the spirit to tell them then.

When that day comes, I will solemnly swear,

It'll be the last day that for you I'll be there.