Poem

Left Out in the Quiet

I stand just outside the moment,

like a name not called in a crowded room,

watching doors open for others

that stay gently, firmly closed to me.

You say you want me there—

but only when I cannot come,

as if my presence fits best

in the spaces already filled with absence.

I try to understand the timing,

but it bends in ways that break me—

my days off pass in silence

while others sit beside you with ease.

They have the hours I don’t,

yet somehow they are chosen,

their footsteps welcomed softly

where mine feel out of place.

It’s not just missed visits—

it’s the echo underneath it all,

the quiet question I can’t stop asking:

Why not me?

I carry that question heavily,

folded into every attempt to reach you,

every time I swallow the hurt

and tell myself not to feel it so deeply.

Because I do feel it—

in the spaces where I should belong,

in the love that feels uneven,

in the ache of being second, or third… or less.

I don’t need perfection,

just a place that feels like mine,

a moment chosen for me

when I am able to be there.

But instead, I linger here—

on the outside of something that should be home,

wondering how love can feel so close

and still leave me this far away.