Invisible
You say I’ll be bored.
That you can’t give me enough,
that your life is too full, too messy,
too much for me to want.
But you don’t see me.
You don’t see how I ache
just to stand in your kitchen,
Just to sit on your balcony,
while your kids run through the house,
while the kettle whistles,
while the day is nothing but ordinary.
You don’t see
that I would fly halfway around the world
Just to hug you,
just to fold your laundry,
to hear your son say "Party, Party",
to fall asleep to the sound of your living
room TV playing Survivors Turkiye
in the next room.
You think I want something from you.
But all I want
is you.
Uncurated. Unfiltered.
Real.
You don’t see me—
not the way I see you:
beautiful in your chaos,
worthy in your fatigue,
enough,
always enough.
And it hurts me.
Because I am here,
6000 miles away
heart open,
hands empty,
waiting to be let in.
And you won’t even open the door.
Copyright © Sam Harty | Year Posted 2026
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