I watch you laugh,
your eyes dancing with the kind of light
I only find in the spaces I can't touch.
You speak, and the world falls awayâ
but I'm just a shadow in your periphery,
always too far to cross the line
between what I want and what is never meant to be.
I tell myself it's fineâ
that these feelings are just a flicker,
a spark from the fire that never burns.
But it's more than that,
more than the ache in my chest
that wants to reach out and touch you
in ways you'll never understand.
More than the desire to be seen
as something more than the background of your world.
More than the silent hope
that one day, maybe,
you'll turn around and see me.
But you won't.
And that's the cruelest part of it.
The part where I exist
in the silence between your words,
in the spaces where I am never allowed
to take up the space I need.
I'm just a whisper in your ear
that will fade the moment I'm forgotten.
A desire you'll never know.
A truth I'll never speak aloud.
So I live with this:
the wanting that can never be fulfilled,
the ache that is just mine to carry,
the love that will never be returned.
And I keep it to myself,
because there's a part of me
that is both brave and terrified
to say it out loud.
That even as I long for you,
I'll always remain
a spectator in your world.