Something always breaks my heart.
Not like glass –
but like a sweater stretched too tight,
a thread quietly coming undone.

Not because I’m unloved,
but because I’m “almost” loved.
And sometimes,
that’s enough to live on.

You say I remind you of yourself.
Same fire. Same fight.
Same restless questions.

You tell me how alone you were back then.
I wish I could fold time in half
and send myself to sit beside you.

But I sit beside you now –
not by name or blood,
but in spirit,
in silence,
in small invisible ways.

I’m not your daughter.
You don’t call unless I do.
You don’t know my birthday.

But I know how you take your tea.
I keep your old advice folded in my wallet,
Perhaps creased like an heirloom I’ll never inherit.

I might not be in your will –
but I pray to be the number your nurse dials first.

Maybe some of us were never taught to expect love that stays –
only to treasure the love that waits.

If all I get is this sliver of closeness,
I’ll hold it like the whole of my childhood.

I don’t need to be your child I’m sure…
It’s enough to be your echo.
To be the part of you that still hopes.
To be the softness
you thought you can live without.

I don’t wait to be chosen.
I already chose you.

Still—I stay.
And sometimes,
that’s love too.

#janhavi