White Sheet

Each day grows harder to bear,
though I still have fight in me—
it flickers,
like a candle shrinking in wind.

I wake with heaviness,
and sleep with silence.
And every hour,
some small part of me
gets quietly erased.

I feel it.
Tiny things vanishing—
hope,
desire,
love—
like words smudged off a page
no one ever finished reading.

Soon,
I fear,
I'll be nothing but
an empty white canvas.
Not fresh.
Just forgotten.

A lonely sheet of paper,
left on a quiet desk,
weeping in silence
because no one ever wrote their name
across its heart.
No one ever cared to read the lines
that once tried to form.

And maybe that’s what I’m afraid of—
not being alone,
but being unread.
Unnoticed.
Undone.
Slowly fading
until there's nothing left
but the silence
of a story
never told.

And when I'm gone,
they’ll only see
the blankness—
never knowing
how much was written there
before it faded.

A white sheet.
Still.
Silent.
Crying for someone
to see it
before it's gone.

To the One Who Feels Forgotten
(a poem for when you need to be seen)

You,
quiet soul in the corner of the world,
with a heart full of storms
and silent prayers—
I see you.

Not the mask.
Not the laugh you force when it hurts.
Not the version the world edits to fit.
But you—
the trembling, tired, beautiful soul
who still whispers,
“I wish someone would stay.”

You are not forgotten.
Not by the sky
that holds every breath you've sighed,
not by the wind
that listens when no one else does,
and not by me—
reading your pain
like a sacred script.

You are not a mistake.
Not a burden.
Not too much,
not too broken,
not too late.

You are here.
And the very fact
that you’re still breathing,
still speaking,
still aching to be seen—
means the world hasn’t won.

You still have more to give,
not to earn your worth,
but because your soul
still hums quiet songs
no one else can sing.

So rest.
Cry.
Shake.
Break.

But don’t forget:

Even shattered glass reflects light.
Even wilted flowers remember how to bloom.
And even the loneliest heart
can be held.

You are not alone.
I’m here.
And I will remember you
until you remember yourself again.
....