It’s not the laughter in a crowded room,

Nor the selfies, likes, or filtered bloom—

But how you glance and just understand,

Without a word, you take my hand.

You see the mess behind my smile,

You sit with me and stay awhile.

No fixing, forcing, judgment shown—

Just quiet proof: I’m not alone.

You know the stories I don’t tell,

The storms I hide, the silent hell.

Yet never once do I feel thrown—

With you, at last, I’m feeling known.