Job Welime

Maybe I was never asking for too much just asking the wrong person to hear me.

I learned to tiptoe around your silence, measuring every word like it was glass,
afraid one wrong syllable, would push you farther than you already were.

I softened my voice,shrunk my needs,folded my feelings into smaller and smaller shapes
until they could fit into the spaces you left.

I became fluent in pauses, in unread messages,
in the way “later” quietly meant “never.”

I told myself patience was love, that understanding meant endurance,
that if I stayed gentle enough, you might finally stay too.

But loving someone,shouldn’t feel like walking on emotional landmines,
shouldn’t require silence as proof of loyalty.

So I stopped tiptoeing,Not out of anger
But out of exhaustion.

Because love should let you speak freely, breathe fully,
stand firmly, not disappear just to be kept.

And if my voice was too much for your quiet,
then maybe I was never asking for too much
just asking the wrong person to hear me.