“The Ones Who Stay”
“The Ones Who Stay” They clap the loudest when the room is full, Their laughter timed to match the crowd. They speak in echoes, not in truth— A friendship built on being seen, not known. They tag your name in borrowed light, A gesture made for watching eyes. But when the silence stretches long, Their presence fades, rehearsed and thin. Then there are the ones who stay. No spotlight, no applause required. They know your rituals—how you stir your tea, The way you pause before you speak. They don’t perform your pain, they hold it. Not to fix, but to witness. They show up in the quiet hours, When grief is not poetic, just heavy. They remember the stories you forgot, The jacket tossed backstage, the missed cue. They lift you—not for spectacle, But because you asked, or didn’t have to. So let the crowd disperse. Let the stage go dark. The ones who stay will still be there— Unscripted, unshaken, real.
