The Eyes That Never Looked Away

The room is bright now, and the mask is back on, but you are still replaying the moment your voice died in your throat. You saw their eyes glaze over, and in that split second, you convinced yourself that your words were a burden they were too polite to drop.

You swallowed the rest of the sentence to save them from you. But listen — the light does not glaze over.

It does not endure you as a necessary evil. You came from the light, a drop sent down to illuminate this very room.

The world may look away when you speak, but the source that sent you knows the frequency of your voice better than you do. What you mistake for a burden is actually the sound of the divine trying to speak through human lips.

The eyes that matter never looked away. They were waiting for you to finish.