My words on deaf ears.

They slipped away in tiny betrayals:

silent sacrifices no one recognized,

promises tangled and broken like loose thread,

smiles stitched tight to hide cracks beneath.

I became the background noise, the steady hum—

holding fragments together with quiet hands,

enduring through storms none saw coming.

The one who listens without being heard;

the refuge everyone seeks but never questions: “Are you okay?”

One morning, without fanfare or witnesses—

just me and a mirror’s honest gaze—I paused.

No tears fell because exhaustion had stolen them long ago.

I spoke softly to my reflection:

“That’s enough.”

Almost seven years lived in silence and waiting;

now time bends toward something else—

perhaps even peace. never beg for help again.