#hiddenheart

She laughs.

And the whole world seems lighter.

I don’t laugh with her.

I just watch,

from the corner I always stand in.

Not because I don’t want to talk—

but because

I don’t want to take

even a drop of comfort

away from her.

When she turns,

I look away.

Not because I’m shy.

But because I know

if I look too long,

I’ll fall—

and she won’t.

I let her smile at others.

I let her laugh with them.

Even when it feels

like a quiet knife inside me.

But I don’t say a word.

Not because I don’t feel it.

But because I don’t want her

to carry my pain.

She might think I’m cold.

But in my mind,

she’s the softest light

I never touch.

And I’m kinder to her

in my silence

than anyone else could ever be

She hasn’t come yet.

Not in the streets I walk,

not in the faces I pass,

not even in my dreams long enough to remember.

But I keep waiting...

like the sky waits for a star that never rises,

like an old song stuck in silence.

Sometimes I wonder—

does she even exist?

Or is she just the warmth I made up

so I don’t freeze completely?

But I still believe.

I still dream of the day she appears.

And when she does—

I’ll be ready.

I won’t speak much.

Just open my arms,

let her rest her head on my chest,

and promise her this:

Even if the whole world burns,

even if hell opens beneath our feet—

I’ll hold her close,

and let the fire take me first.

Because I didn’t wait all these lifetimes