I am the silence between words,
the shadow that slips unnoticed
through crowded rooms.
No one looks my way,
no eyes linger,
not even for a moment.
I walk past like a ghost,
my name barely a whisper in the air,
dissolving before it reaches anyone's ears.
I speak, but it feels like I’m talking to walls,
hoping the vibrations will reach somewhere,
someone.
But I am always alone.
Invisible threads weave through me,
tightening as the world goes on,
oblivious,
unaware
of the emptiness I carry.
I am not part of the conversation.
I am the pause,
the blank space,
the forgotten afterthought.
I try to shout,
but my voice only echoes in my chest,
bouncing back unanswered.
In the sea of faces,
I am the one that doesn’t register,
the one who blends into the background,
like a painting left to collect dust.
I exist,
but I am not seen.
I feel the weight of this truth,
heavy in the hollow places inside me.
I am a story untold,
a face without a name,
a heartbeat no one notices
because it’s too faint to matter.
But I keep breathing,
I keep moving.
Because even if I’m invisible,
I am still here,
still waiting
for someone to see me.
