You never asked.
How’s your day going? Would be nice for a change.
The calluses on the soles of my feet burned —
With every step I took to serve you dinner.
You always sat on the same chair of
The dinner table, signing cheques or
Counting the days till you could envision success.
Do you remember the day,
I packed up and left?
The day I took away what was mine and
Stole what was yours?
That feeling, the kind that
Leaves you feeling a little too hollow;
As if someone is carving out
Everything you did wrong with your life on your chest —
That was how I felt when
You took away my source of fresh air
And stole the happiness within me.
Sometimes, the bravest thing to do, is run.