Sitting in the cold

Everyone has a sanctuary they calls their own, Built from choices, carved from fate. They rest content in their small, bright worlds, While I drift outside the gate. “Do not sit alone with your thoughts,” my parents plead, “It only invites the storm. Go out, blend in, learn how the others laugh, Find a fire to keep you warm.” Everyone has advice on how to live, How to speak, how to heal, how to grow. But they do not see the hollow space inside, Where the cold winds quietly blow. I watch the way others hold each other’s hearts, The effortless depth of the love they share. To witness such warmth from the freezing dark Leaves my soul stripped naked and bare. “Look up from your phone,” they say, “see the world.” But when I look up, the view only breaks my mind. To see a universe overflowing with affection While I am the one left behind— It makes the world feel entirely empty, A beautiful, cruel, and crowded space Where love belongs to everyone else, And I am just a ghost without a place. I see it at sunset—a phone lights up, A simple call that means everything: “Have you eaten yet? Are you safe?” The quiet joy that a single voice can bring. I remember the old places, the familiar streets