Why am I not allowed to be happy too?
You tell me you simply drift,
that whatever happens, happens,
as though the river bears no blame
for the homes it carries away.
You call it going with the flow.
But I am the one
standing waist-deep in your current,
holding you steady
while it tears the ground from beneath my feet.
I gave you warmth
when the nights were too loud to bear.
I gave you affection
when loneliness begged for a name.
I gave you my attention
until your silence became louder
than my own thoughts.
You reached for me
every time your heart grew heavy,
and I answered
as though being needed
was the same as being loved.
Yet when the tide reversed,
I found empty hands.
You asked me to walk away
like none of it had mattered,
as if whispered confessions
spoken beneath fallen walls
were only echoes
never meant to survive the morning.
If I was always meant
to be an afterthought,
why stitch hope into your words?
Why soothe my fears
only to leave me carrying
a promise
you never intended to keep?
You say whatever happens, happens.
But things do not just happen.
People choose
who they hold close,
who they fight for,
and who they leave
standing in the wreckage,
wondering why
their happiness
was always the price
for someone else’s peace.