The Weight Of Your Current

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.