Maybe this is just a cycle, spinning endlessly,
Waking up to a sweet “good morning” text,
Only to feel the bittersweetness creeping in,
A fleeting joy, then the ache of knowing it will end.

Faces blur, all smiles and whispered hopes,
Words like promises, but none built to last.
I speak in charms, soft words and sweet replies,
Yet I know, deep down, most of them won't see me for who I am.

Flaws laid bare, still I chase the hope,
That someone might stay, despite the cracks in my soul.
I tell myself, “My love is out there, somewhere,”
And though I’m lost in a sea of unfamiliar eyes,
I wait for him to find me, pull me from this haze.

When he arrives, I’ll ask him to begin
Not with small talk or shallow pleasantries,
But with the simplest of questions, soft but sure—
“When is your birthday?”
A question that will anchor me,
To know he sees me, truly, and wants to know the day
That I was born into this world,
Not just as a face in the crowd,
But as the one he’s been searching for.