Unspoken Ache

Her father looked, yet could not see,
his gentle eyes lost memory.
For just a moment, cold and grim,
she was a stranger — unknown to him.

Her name slipped through his fragile mind,
like fleeting waves, it left behind.
The echo of her life grew thin,
swallowed by the dark within.

She longed to reach, to make him know,
the years they shared, the love they’d show.
A child once sure his care would stay,
unchanged, unbroken, night or day.

And yet, elsewhere, love twists apart,
the one she trusts misreads her heart.
Misheard, unseen, she breaks inside,
as patience bleeds and shadows hide.

How cruel a weight the fates can keep —
one forgets, the other cuts too deep.
Between such losses she remains,
a quiet soul that love sustains.

So she writes, for paper hears,
it holds her truths, absorbs her tears.
Ink remembers, words abide,
when fading voices drift aside.

Here she stands — still holding on,
though parts of her feel almost gone.
Daughter, lover, fragile, free,
still begging the world
to remember She.