The Broken Oath Poem by ashok jadhav

I handed you my trust without a lock,
believing what was sacred would be safe.
Your voice was shelter, calm and certain—
I rested there, unguarded, whole.
Betrayal did not strike like sudden flame.
It crept in wearing the face I knew,
speaking in the tone of shared history,
undoing me with familiar hands.
What mourns the most is not the wound itself,
but the loss of who I was with you—
the self that believed, that did not doubt,
that called your name without fear.
Now even memory feels compromised.
I sift through kindness, searching for cracks.
Trust, once broken, does not scream or bleed—
it grieves in silence, learning how to stand alone.