In the quiet corners of my mind,
echoes linger,
words unspoken,
wrapped in shadows,
like whispers lost in the wind.

I reach,
fingers tracing the outlines
of invisible thoughts,
yearning for a glance,
a nod, a spark—
something to bridge the chasm
that yawns wide
between my heart
and the world outside.

Each smile feels like a mask,
each laugh a distant bell,
ringing clear,
but never close enough
to touch the pulse
of my solitude.

I am a book,
pages turned,
but the story remains unshared,
a longing for connection,
for someone to see
the hues of my silence,
to know the depths
beneath my surface.

Here I stand,
a lone star in a crowded sky,
yearning to collide
with another’s light,
to finally feel
the warmth of understanding
wrap around me
like a soft embrace.