Last Place

There are only so many times

a heart can quietly ask,

“Are we okay?”

before it gets too tired

to ask again.

Not because it stopped caring.

But because every unanswered hope

becomes a little heavier to carry.

I don’t need perfect words.

I don’t need promises.

I think I just need to know

that someone would notice

if I stopped reaching.

Because there comes a point

where even the softest pleas

begin to sound like echoes—

and the silence

starts convincing you

that maybe

you were the only one

who heard them.