I’ll never know what it’s like
to feel the warmth of true love from a woman,
her eyes soft with the kind of light
that reflects acceptance without question,
her hands holding mine
as if they were made of gold,
as if the cracks in my soul were maps
she’d learned to trace with her fingertips.
I’ll never know the music of her laugh
shared without pretense,
a melody I could carry in my chest,
a symphony of something real.

I’ll never know the unspoken bond
of a true friend—
someone who stays in the silence
when words are too heavy to bear,
someone who knows the weight I carry
without me speaking a syllable.
I’ve searched faces,
looked for echoes of my pain in their eyes,
but found only shadows
too fleeting to hold.

I’ll never know how it feels
to be understood,
to be seen beyond the surface
of what I show the world.
As an old soul in a time
that feels too fast,
too shallow,
too loud,
I am a relic trying to breathe in a world
that only exalts the new.
Who would pause long enough
to hear the verses
hidden in my...