I do not go where I am not wanted.
I do not press my shadow
into places that have closed their doors.

I am a creature of habit,
and when the rhythm changes,
I step back.
Sometimes it feels like the air shifts overnight—
like tides pulling away from the shore
without warning.

Life is busy.
The world asks for more than we have to give.
And still, there are moments
when the noise is tended to
while the quiet corners are left untouched.

In that space,
my mind weaves its own stories—
about distance,
about weight,
about the size of my presence in someone’s life.

So I fold myself smaller.
Stay in the periphery.
Ask for little.
Need for less.

And yet somehow,
I arrive here again—
in that gray place
between fading light
and unanswered echoes.

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