Where You Never Looked

You speak to crowds, but never hear the one who’s been whispering with everything except words. How do I say it’s always been you? You'll never know; how often I carved courage from hesitation, how many half-sent messages died unnamed in drafts, how I made “friendship” sound like I didn’t want more. I listened like I was learning prayer. I waited- God, I waited. Began every thread, drew every map, lit every flare; in case you were searching for a way. I spoke through what-ifs, you replied in what-never-was. And now I’m weary, knocking on doors only I know exist. How long do I send signals before silence becomes my answer? -Warda Pokhrel