I'm glad she doesn't see. She doesn't see the messages, shared emotion between two people where she could have been one of them. She's safe there, outside the headspace of these people. She doesn't feel the absence of an afterthought; there should have been. But she probably wouldn't take exception.

She's been here and there, providing in space oscillating between awareness and obscurity, never coaxing such an intention to express gratitude. She has been given little of what is hers, and so remains steadfastly defunct of knowing any misdirection. Painfully, or perhaps peacefully, symbolic love isn't hers.

And so it slips and slides between others less modest, ultimately touching via codependence and gravitation, an exertion of a weak nuclear force in relative vacancy.

Hopefully, though she can't see, she isn't wanting. Hopefully, she doesn't know that while she has given her love and life, others derive the result.