What stayed with me yesterday
wasn’t the hope
that everything was perfect.

I knew it wasn’t.
I saw the seams,
and still kept going.

It wasn’t the short fall,
the full days,
the asking for more.

What stayed
was the noticing.

That I think differently,
move to a rhythm
that changes the room.

In shared rooms
you learn where to bend.
Some did.
I chose another way.

And yes—
I was seen.

Understanding
doesn’t erase difference;
it makes space for it.

I don’t need the reminder
to disappear.

Only the room
to stay

long enough
to be named gently