Listen, World 🌏 ⭐️🧚‍♀️

Painting: Claude Monet, 1875. Public domain via National Gallery of Art.

I keep it to myself, and myself—like a girl with no lips.
And so, no one sees me. I’m forgotten, forsaken.
Still, I am flesh and bone—the quiet soul, the raging spirit.

Recognition is not my thing, or so I try to beguile.
But the crying heart longs for it, like a flower needs water.
The calm sea always hides the surge of roaring waves.

I wanted to be someone’s one—even if he knows me not.
I wanted to be a lover’s lover—even if he is someone’s one.

When I shared what I felt, with streams of salt-sad fire,
it was too much for them. They turned away.
So I stopped confessing it altogether, evermore.

I wish for nothing now—not tomorrow, not ever.
With no expectations, I let the days pass—and fade away.