I am—
an unlit wick,
a sparrow unseen
in a flock of starlings,
a smudge,
in a trail of erased steps.

No one claims
the air I move through,
as names fall away,
unspoken—
a shadow too faint
to take notice.

I am—
and I vanish.

The crowd breathes
indifference,
dissipates—
a broken branch off a tree,
a blank page
torn out of a book.

I was—
now vanished.