Hmm… tell me—
how much more of myself must I spill
before you notice the mess I’m drowning in?

How many nights must I trade for mornings
that never bring your warmth?
How many breaths must I hold back
so you can keep breathing easy?

Tell me,
how much more of these tears
must I waste
for my cries to finally
reach your ears?

Is it a river you need—
or an ocean?
Must I flood the whole world with my pain
before you call my name?

I have stitched my hurt into whispers,
screamed it into my pillow,
sent it in prayers
I’m not sure Heaven received.

And still…
you do not hear me.

So I ask again—
how much more?
Because I’m afraid
the answer will be all of me.