You say you love me,
but in the crowd, I disappear.
I’m standing here—
close enough to touch,
close enough to breathe you in—
and yet, your eyes drift past me,
as if I’m nothing more
than the air between us.
Your hands hold me,
but they don’t reach me.
You skim the surface,
never diving deep enough
to find where I truly live.

We share this bond,
this silent thread spun between glances,
a language no one else can hear.
But when the noise of the world rises,
when faces blur into one,
I fade.
I become a shadow,
existing only
when you choose to see me.

I feel you near me,
your words,
your breath,
the weight of everything you don’t say.
But still, you are blind.
You say you love me,
but love isn’t quiet like this.
It doesn’t hide behind shallow gazes.
It doesn’t leave me wondering
if I am real
or just a reflection
you need to keep yourself company.

Am I a truth to you,
or a lie you whisper to fill the silence?
A creation of your own design,
a love that lives in the safety of your mind
but crumbles in the light of day?
Here, among others,
I vanish.
And I ask myself—
is this blindness unintentional?
Or do you look away
because you fear what you might see?

I crave your eyes—
not the fleeting glance,
not the kind that grazes over me
and moves on.
I want the gaze that stays,
that lingers,
that searches for the depths
you pretend aren’t there.
I want to be seen in the noise,
in the chaos,
in the places where love must fight to exist.

You say you love me,
but I feel it—
I feel how I disappear
when others call your name.
As if my presence is only valuable
when there’s no one else to fill the silence.

And so, I stand still.
I wait.
I hold my breath,
hoping you’ll find me in the crowd,
hoping your eyes will lock onto mine
and refuse to let go.
Not just when it’s easy,
not just when we’re alone,
but when the world demands your attention.
Choose me.
See me.
Not for a moment,
but always.

Because I’m here.
I’ve always been here.
And I don’t want to be your shadow,
your almost,
your sometimes.
I want to be your always.
But if you can’t see me—
if you won’t—
then let me go.

I will not beg for love
that cannot bear to look at me,
even when I stand in the light.

I am no longer pure.
No longer the tender girl I once believed I was—
The kind, soft-spoken child,
Whose silence painted her lovable.
I was the doll in the corner,
Delicate, pristine, fragile—
A sweet and breakable thing.
I spoke little but saw everything,
Carrying the weight of worlds too large for my hands.
I was quiet, obedient,
Too small to draw lines where lines were needed.
They called me precious.
They called me theirs.
And I let them.

I gave myself away in pieces—
Small gifts to the undeserving.
I bled my heart dry for those who never stopped to wonder if I would break.
I carried the burdens of others,
But never my own.
And then, I shattered.
Quietly.
Repeatedly.
Until the cracks in my skin carved scars in theirs.

It wasn’t malice.
It wasn’t choice.
It was pain spilling over—
Overflowing onto the innocent.

I told myself it wasn’t me.
That I was still kind. Still good.
But the mirror doesn’t lie.
I saw her
A stranger with my face.
I lied when I should have screamed.
I stayed when I should have left.
I agreed to things that unraveled me,
Then denied their truth.
I lost the girl I was
The one with the open heart,
The one who wanted so deeply to be more.

Now, they whisper behind me:
“She’s not who she was.
She’s not the one we loved.
She’s ruined now, isn’t she?”
And I wonder if they’re right.
Because I’ve made mistakes.
I’ve hurt those who didn’t deserve it,
With words I didn’t mean,
With silence I shouldn’t have held.

I thought I was better.
Better than my wounds,
Better than my past.
But I failed.
I bled.
And others bled with me.

I was numb.
Then I was too much
Feeling everything at once.
Pain turned to fire,
And fire to frost.
I burned bridges and froze hearts.
I don’t know which is worse.
I’ve stood in the ashes of what I’ve done,
And I’ve cried for the ruins I’ve left behind.
I’ve stared into the mirror,
And hated the weight of my own gaze.

I am not who I was.
Not the soft girl,
Not the sweet soul you remember.

But please believe me when I say



I never meant to harm.
I didn’t want to leave you with scars.
I didn’t want your tears to bear my name.
I wanted to hold you,
To love you gently,
To be the warmth you turned to.

But I failed.


I wasn’t enough.

I wasn’t right for you.


And maybe I wasn’t right for anyone.



Still, I hope you remember the light we shared,
Even as the shadows swallowed me whole.
I hope you live the dreams you painted for me,
Meet someone who sees you in all your brilliance.

And though I know I don’t deserve it,
I hope you forgive me.

I carry the weight of what I’ve done.


But I carry love for you too.



Always.

Eyes of Fear
Can you see her?
The way she laughs as she twirls,
effortless, unstoppable,
her rhythm pulling me into her storm.
I stand still, frozen,
trapped in the shadow she casts.
Do you see her?
There, in the grey-blue of my eyes,
watching, waiting,
whispering commands I cannot ignore.
Do you see the fear?
She hides in the depths,
lurking in the quiet spaces of my soul.
If you dared to look closer,
you’d feel her too.
She steals my breath 
before the day can claim it,
her hands wrapped tightly around my chest,
pressing until I am hollow.
The scent of fresh bread,
warm tea, sweet juice –
they mock me.
My plate stays empty,
my glass untouched.
I hear her voice screaming:
"Not that bread. Not those calories.
If you eat now,
if you take more than you deserve,
you’ll become too much –
you’ll be too much."
I‘ve always been too much —

The phone rings.
A message lights up the screen.
I don’t answer.
I don’t look.
I don’t want to know.
I don’t want to hear
 what disaster awaits me this time.
I want to step outside,
but the door is a fortress,
its hinges groaning beneath the weight of my hesitation.
The world beyond is too loud, too bright –
a sea of faces, voices, laughter.
Every glance feels like a verdict,
every word a whisper about me.
They know my flaws.
They see my cracks.
My thoughts spin endlessly,
a hurricane with no eye.
I need to buy groceries,
but I wait for nightfall.
The dark hides me better.
Fewer people.
Fewer eyes.
No one to judge the weight of me.
Fear dances,
her laughter echoing in every corner.
She knows no fear herself.
She drags me to the darkest places,
relishing my trembling.
Her favorite season?
Always Halloween.
Fear rises before the dawn,
her shadow stretching long over my bed.
She wakes me before the sun,
her voice a relentless drumbeat:
"I am here. I will always be here."
Once,
she was meant to protect me.
But now,
she tears me apart.
I fear her,
the way she whispers my failures back to me,
the way she plants doubt like seeds in my mind,
until I can no longer tell
where her voice ends and mine begins.
How do you silence a shadow
 that breathes through your soul?
But even shadows cannot exist
 without the light they fight to obscure.
Perhaps,
somewhere beyond the darkness,
a spark still waits for me.