Isn’t me being here with you enough?
My hellos, my goodbyes,
my soft “Are you okay?”
my tired “How are you feeling today?”
aren’t they enough?
What more do you want from me?
I grind. I tire. I sweat in your shadow,
and still there’s this silence
where your gratitude should live.
Tell me
should I move mountains?
part seas?
trade oceans?
run through a burning world
just to hear you say
you see me?
Because I’ve tried.
God, I’ve tried.
I’ve given you my days,
my nights,
my thoughts that never rest.
I’ve handed you every glance,
every trembling thing behind my eyes,
hoping one day you’d say,
“Stop.
You’ve done enough.”
But you never do.
So I stand here,
with my tired bones
and stretched-thin spirit,
wondering why none of this reaches you.
Why everything I break myself to offer
falls unseen at your feet.
Isn’t my exhaustion a language?
A signal flare?
A cracked whisper begging to be heard?
Why do I keep doing this to myself
pouring from a well
that no one bothers to look into?
I don’t know anymore.
I just know it hurts
to love in the dark,
to give without being met,
to call out
and hear nothing
but my own echo
coming back.
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 2:24 PM UTC
Isn’t me being here with you enough?
My hellos, my goodbyes,
my soft “Are you okay?”
my tired “How are you feeling today?”
aren’t they enough?
What more do you want from me?
I grind. I tire. I sweat in your shadow,
and still there’s this silence
where your gratitude should live.
Tell me
should I move mountains?
part seas?
trade oceans?
run through a burning world
just to hear you say
you see me?
Because I’ve tried.
God, I’ve tried.
I’ve given you my days,
my nights,
my thoughts that never rest.
I’ve handed you every glance,
every trembling thing behind my eyes,
hoping one day you’d say,
“Stop.
You’ve done enough.”
But you never do.
So I stand here,
with my tired bones
and stretched-thin spirit,
wondering why none of this reaches you.
Why everything I break myself to offer
falls unseen at your feet.
Isn’t my exhaustion a language?
A signal flare?
A cracked whisper begging to be heard?
Why do I keep doing this to myself
pouring from a well
that no one bothers to look into?
I don’t know anymore.
I just know it hurts
to love in the dark,
to give without being met,
to call out
and hear nothing
but my own echo
coming back.
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