Some of us offer hands before words,
fill the silence with service, not sound.
Caretakers, sewing ourselves into others\' wounds,
hoping that healing them will heal us, too.
Some of us carry the weight of yes,
become the oil to ease the chaos,
Enablers, smoothing jagged edges,
even when they carve into our skin.
Some of us need control to breathe,
like holding a kite against a storm.
Controllers, gripping tight to the strings of others,
believing their flight depends on our touch.
Some of us vanish into malleable shapes,
shifting tones, mirroring faces, molding selves.
Adjusters, contorting to fit spaces,
swallowing truth to keep the peace.
In all these ways, we disappear—
a slow unraveling beneath love’s name.