I See You
I see you—
not like the world does,
not the you that they applaud
for being strong,
for getting up,
showing up,
never giving up.
I see the you
who aches in quiet,
the weight you carry
that no one can see,
like imprints etched
deep within your bones.
I see you—
in the grind of your jaw
when the day feels endless,
in the fire behind your eyes
when you dream
of what could be,
of what will be.
I hear the whispers of your wants,
those wild,
unspoken desires
that hide behind your steady voice.
You think you’re subtle.
You think the world only sees
the provider, the protector,
the one who holds everything together.
But I see you,
who dances in silence,
who laughs with abandon when the weight slips off
just for a second.
I see your joy,
that rare flash of it, sharp and sudden,
like a comet streaking across a dark sky.
I see your doubt,
your hesitation
that you keep chained beneath your ribs,
where no one is allowed to look.
But I look.
I look, and I see it all.
And you — you are more than muscle, more than duty,
more than that quiet grit that the world
Mistakes you for.
I see your soul.
The wild,
pulsing,
vulnerable core of you,
the part that wants to be
free,
the part that aches to build a life
not just of survival,
but of wild,
reckless,
unapologetic living.
I see you.
And it inspires me.
Every. Single. Day.
Because what I see—
the full, messy, glorious you—
is more than the world can ever know.
And that’s my gift,
the one you didn’t ask for,
but the one I give freely:
I see you.
And I love the you that you don't recognize.