i sit in the pause of your sentences, in the spaces between your breaths. not close enough to matter, but near enough to hope. your laughter, a light i’ll never touch. it spills into the room, warm and careless, like it doesn’t know i’m here. i memorized your voice the way sailors map constellations, searching for a north star that never points home. i listen, but you never call my name. i gave you my silence, wrapped in ribbons of longing, placed it softly at your feet. you stepped over it, graceful, unseeing. sometimes, i think you do see me, a flicker, a glance, a fleeting kindness. and for a moment, i am someone until i am no one again. i wonder how many times a heart can break before it learns the rhythm of shattering, before the ache becomes a melody only the lonely can hum. still, i stay. not because i believe you’ll love me, but because i don’t know how to stop offering what you will not take. ~shreeraj