I don’t exist… those weren’t the words precisely
But the sword cut deep and clear,
“We have loved him always, you were never there”
My name it has no memory
It has never passed his lips
So they ask who I am to him, do I really exist.
I look at the walls of memory I have created out of love
I note that I’m barely included, well there are two moments of drunk bliss
The perfect little pictures of smiles and hugs and love
The hundred memory mentions, I am not part of this
I wanted to explain, defend my place and truth
But the evidence is clear, it’s a truth I can’t resist.
In every precious moment, something is amiss
The ugly truth is realised, if I’m not needed I’m not missed.
I am an invisible story.
© Christie Marie Kruger 2014