Pressure Gradient
I don’t crave a promise.
I crave a place
where my shoulders forget
they were ever carrying that weight.
A hug
that does not merely wrap around me,
but reaches the place
even hidden from me.
A hand
that is more than skin against skin
but a warmth
to remind me
that I am not walking alone.
A voice
that speaks my name
without demand,
without impatience.
That lets silence exist
without mistaking it for distance.
Eyes
that search a crowded room,
To find me,
and soften,
Smiling before words
because my presence..
I have learned
that emptiness can be dangerous.
It begs to be filled in.
With the nearest comfort,
the loudest affection,
the quickest escape.
So I left mine untouched.
I let the hollow echo,
refusing to borrow another heartbeat
just to quiet my own.
Instead,
I built walls.
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Not from stone,
but with my expectations,
with my dreams,
with my goals
and a life where I lead.
Layer upon invisible layer,
until the air itself
became difficult to leave.
They call it standards.
Perhaps they are.
Or perhaps
There are things I refuse to trade,
no matter how much I long for love.
Still —
Behind every wall
lives a window
that has never forgotten
what warmth feels like.
It still waits
for a hand
that is not hurried,
a voice
that is not angry,
a smile
that says,
“I was looking for you, too.”
Until then,
I will carry my own heart.
Not because it weighs nothing —
but because I refuse
to hand it to someone
who mistakes its weight
for inconvenience…
