The weight at the station

To carry more than I’ve shown, things I never told about, I still somehow carry the cost of your long forgotten chaos. I stood strong with a heavy heart. I stayed brave because I ought to. There were things I never said, to protect what little of me was left, waiting quietly, your arrival. You never saw me before the silence. That sound still haunts me. It made me derail, the one I had that day when I was nine. I was just killing time, until it killed mine. Too young to know death, I heard enough to feel it. I didn’t dare tell. I didn’t know how. I was afraid, maybe. But more than that, I felt alone, and I stayed that way. I tried to disappear at ten, but by chance, I was saved: someone to share the silence with, bear witness to the pain. The weight grew heavier as I did. Years passed. He never left. He sank deeper, quietly holding onto me. I thought I'd heard it all. True love came and left. It left without a second glance. I truly believed it could never end. This time, silence I never heard coming speaks louder now it’s brought him back. Not the memory, but not speaking out, not being able to. I wanted to explain. But how do you say you’re still haunted by something you never named? How do you hand someone your childhood ghost and not scare them away? How do you explain the strength you thought endless? He’ll leave me in the quiet, not to invoke guilt to him, but so he might understand. I won’t be around for him forever. I’ve burned so long to keep him warm. How short the flame becomes. It’s getting cold at this station. Things left undone. So, as he edges near, if you care, listen close now. Soon, the silence will come sneaking around, for the boy at the station is being too l he