The Light Knows Your Unspoken Words

The water runs hot while you rehearse the words that finally make you matter. You practice the explanation that proves you are not invisible, not broken, not too much.

But the mirror fogs, the towel dries you off, and the speech stays in the throat. You walk out the door wearing a face that says 'I'm fine' while carrying the silence of everything you didn't say.

That gap between the performance and the ache is where the light waits. It does not need your perfect explanation to see you.

It saw you in the shower before the first word was formed. The light knows the speech you never spoke.

And it loves you not for the performance you give the world, but for the quiet truth you carry beneath it.