word unspoken

the unwashable grease stains beneath his nails
still there after countless washings
from that time he drove out to rescue you, midnight last week
and changed your tyre at the drop of a hat

his favourite jeans relegated to the back of the cupboard
displaying the splotches of paint he couldn’t hold at bay
as he ‘just dropped by’ that saturday morning
when you and some friends who never showed up were going to paint your wall

the old cellphone he pulls out to text his parents
to let them know he is going to be late
looks pitiful and ancient when held against your new gleaming smartphone
the one he quietly handed to you, when yours had slipped
and smashed its screen upon the floor

his face, after you have left the room
the edges of his mouth, shortly after you smile at him
the lingering he does at events that you attend
all speak a thousand times the word that he cannot

[For day 5’s challenge which involved a reworked Emily Dickinson poem, click here]