The Questions You Never Asked

The Questions You Never Asked

I carried so many questions
that there was hardly any room left
for anything else.

I tried to explain to you
how everything had gone,
but the more I spoke,
the further you seemed to drift away.

Your silence became distance.
Your distance became doubt.
And somewhere between your quiet
and my words,
I started to lose myself.

But why did you say nothing?

People I truly care about
I don’t just hurt for no reason.
Not knowingly.
Never on purpose.

More pointed questions
you could no longer
simply stay silent about —
they finally reached you, didn’t they.

But what hurts me most
isn’t what you answered.

It’s everything
you never asked.

No "what about you?"
No "why?" or "how?"

No attempt
to look past my words
and see me.

And so, after everything that’s been said,
only one question remains —

why did you never ask me?