Unspoken

I carry the weight of the years in silence,

Not just mine, but yours too—

The broken pieces you never mended,

Passed down like heirlooms no one wants.

I understand now,

Your pain ran deep,

But it doesn’t erase the nights

I waited for you to see me,

To say you were sorry for the storms you left behind.

Three doorsteps became my home,

But no place ever felt safe,

I learned how to say goodbye to my brothers,

Even when I never wanted to.

Now they look at me,

With eyes full of blame,

And we’re scattered like ashes,

Lost to the wind of a family that never learned to hold on.

You never said the words—

Mental health wasn’t a conversation,

Not for you.

You taught me how to bottle it all,

Tighten the lid on pain until it spilled out in anger,

In silence.

But the cracks in me were always there,

From years of pretending everything was fine

When nothing ever was.

I tried to speak,

But the language of therapy, healing,

Was foreign to you—

An inconvenience.

I was left to deal with the ghosts on my own,

While you looked away,

Never once asking how I carried it all.

And still, we never talk about it.

The words you left unsaid

Hurt as much as the ones that should have been spoken.

You knew, didn’t you?

The silence after I told you—

How could you know and still choose to bury it,

Like it was easier to forget?

But here I am,

Still holding the memories,

Still waiting for someone to take responsibility

For the cracks they made in me.

I know you had your own darkness,

But it doesn’t make mine any less real,

And I’m still here,

Trying to heal wounds you never admitted to causing.

– Harper Wilde 🌿