do you see me? 

am i pretty—
pretty for you,
or just pretty enough to pass you by?
a passing glance on a crowded street,
forgettable,
forgettable,
forgettable.

you’re surrounded
by people louder,
brighter,
easier to love—
their edges don’t bruise when touched.
do you ever say my name
to them?
do i live in the rooms you walk through
when i’m not there?

to me,
you are a sky i never stop watching.
a song i hum
even in silence.
a constellation i mapped
on the ceiling of my bedroom.

do you even know
i made you art
when you only saw yourself in mirrors?

to me,
you are a painting—
one i’d hang in the brightest part of my world,
where the light hits just right.
i’d protect you from dust.
from fading.
from being forgotten.

would you even glance
at me
if i were framed on your wall?

you are the best part
of every movie i’ve ever rewatched—
the scene i never skip,
the line i recite under my breath
when life feels too loud.

but me?
am i even a footnote
in the credits
of your story?

my love,
who am i to you?

do you see me—
not just the shape i take beside you,
but the soul behind the silence?
do you know my favorite color
or why i hate the crowd,
how the noise breaks my skin
like shattered glass?

can you even spell my name
without hesitating?

do you know me
at all—
or did i just spend so long
building a version of you
that i forgot
you never asked
for mine?

you weren't there
on the days
you promised you would be.
i counted seconds like stars,
and still—
you never came.

and if i called you
from the edge
of my last breath,
would your phone even ring?

you made me hate parts of myself—
the quiet parts,
the soft parts,
the ones that waited too long
and asked too little.

the parts
that weren’t enough
to be remembered.
to be chosen.
to be loved
by you.

but maybe—
maybe i was never the forgettable one.
maybe
you just never knew
how to see
a masterpiece
that didn’t beg
to be understood.