'Brush It Off' Poem by Abhida Kafle

You were always late
late to dinner,
late to birthdays,
late to your own promises.
Your voice was always half here,
half on the next call,
chasing something that was always
just a little further away.

You smelled like coffee,
like exhaustion and perfume and paper
You wore your tiredness like jewelry
something expensive,
something you thought made you worth more.

When I told you they laughed
pushed me,
hurt me,
You didn't even blink.
just said, 'Brush it off.'
like pain was a weakness
like being hurt was something shameful.

You looked at me
like I was a mirror you didn't want to face
like my hurt reminded you
of a girl who once cried too easily,
and got nothing for it.

So I learned.
I stopped telling you things.
I folded up my feelings small,
tucked them away where you'd never have to see them.
You were too busy keeping the lights on
too busy proving yourself
to a world that never thanked you.

You made promises the way other people exhale
without thinking,
without stopping.
'We'll go out this weekend.'
'I'll take a day off soon.'
'Next time, I swear! '
You said it so easily
I almost thought you believed it.

But every time,
the weekend came and went,
and your chair at the table stayed cold.
I'd wait up,
watch the headlights crawl across the walls
hoping maybe they were you

You said you worked for us
but sometimes it felt like
you were escaping us.
Like love was just another item
you couldn't fit into your schedule.

And I get it now
you got chewed up,
and spit out,
meanwhile,
they told you to smile through it.
So you hardened,
and called it strength.

But god,
I wish you'd just let yourself be soft.
Just once.
I wish you'd held me
instead of handing me advice
like a bandage made of paper.

Now I'm the same way.
I work too much.
I don't cry in front of anyone.
When something hurts,
I swallow it whole.
And in the quiet,
I hear your voice again
that same tired edge
saying, 'Brush it off'

And I hate how it helps.
How it still works.
How every time I do,
I feel you
in my jaw, in my pulse,
in the silence after.

You gave me everything
except how to forgive you.
And I'm still trying to figure out
which one of us that broke.