Some lives are lived
with a hand upon the window,
learning the warmth of sunlight
through borrowed light.

Not every hunger
arrives empty.
Some are fed
by leftovers of joy,
small invitations,
forgotten moments,
the pieces no one else
thought to keep.

Enough to survive.
Never enough
to belong.

There is an entire world
on the other side.

Tables already set.
Laughter already familiar.
Doors opening
for names spoken
without hesitation.

A quiet place remains
just beyond the threshold,
occupied only
by patience.

Years become
an education
in watching.

Learning celebrations
by their echoes.
Learning tenderness
by reflection.
Learning love
by the shape it leaves
on other faces.

There is an art
to becoming invisible.

To smile
when another place is filled.
To accept
what falls from overflowing hands
without asking
why the feast
was never offered whole.

Some hearts
become experts
at making homes
from fragments.

Building entire lives
from almost.

Collecting enough
small mercies
to mistake survival
for belonging.

Outside,
the seasons continue.

Inside,
the lights remain warm.

The glass
never breaks.

Only the certainty
that one day
someone might notice
the face
still waiting
on the other side.

© 2026 Wynter Rayne. All rights reserved.