She sat alone, beside the door
not asking much, not asking more.
She didn’t wait for steps to fall
but for a glance.
No cry. Just call.
. . .
She wasn’t silent out of fear,
nor lost for words that wouldn’t clear.
She simply held that hush so deep
your broken soul
could rest, could sleep.
. . .
When you were cruel, she did not shake.
When you were low, she’d bend, not break.
She breathed like grass, a quiet thing,
forgave it all, just with a blink.
. . .
You could have left.
Or screamed. Or lied.
Or tossed your anger off with pride.
She knew it all.
She didn’t plead.
She breathed, just breathed
like hope, like need.
. . .
And if you left and never came
past morning’s hush, beyond the flame
she still would sit…
no names, no cries…
and watch the night
as if
it shines.