She thought she’d never need
the weight of shopping bags
cutting into her palms,
or the glint of city lights
splashing across a wine glass
in her manicured hand—
she thought these things
were for other people.

But here she is,
smiling in the photographs,
draped in silk and diamonds,
moving through rooms that gleam
with money and something colder.
The walls echo with laughter
that never quite reaches her.

She has everything
and yet carries a hollow
that stretches deep—
an emptiness dressed in the finest clothes,
a silence that lingers
when the guests are gone.

She wants to laugh sometimes,
and it comes out brittle,
like the crack of glass
under pressure.

She wants to weep,
but the tears stick to her throat
like an unspoken truth.

Most of all,
she wants him—
not the man who signs the checks
or toasts her beauty at dinner parties,
but the one whose name
she's erased from her lips,
the one who taught her
what wanting really meant.

She looks at her reflection
in a room full of mirrors
and wonders if any of them
will show her who she really is.

© reddragonfly