I leaned in with my eyes, waiting for you to catch the unspoken words,
but you looked right through me, lost in your own orbit.

My hands hovered at your elbow—
tiny invitations I thought you’d notice—
but you didn’t turn.

I carried my heart on my sleeve, bruised and hopeful,
offering you its quiet rhythm,
and you walked past it like street noise.

In the silence between us,
I screamed in gestures: a tremble, a sigh, a borrowed courage.
You mistook it for nothing.

Now I’m left with the echo of those soft confessions,
each one fading before it reached you,
and I wonder how loudly a heart has to beat
before someone finally hears.