He doesn’t feel like he’s being seen—

but he’s always being seen.

His heart aches.

His mind is cracked.

And I see.

And I keep seeing.

His voice is a gentle breeze.

His voice heals my soul.

His voice carries weight.

And I see.

And I keep seeing.

His heart is pure.

He’s full of sass.

So kind—

just wanting to be understood.

He’s not loud. He’s quiet.

He’s not hard-core. He’s soft.

And I see.

And I keep seeing.

One day,

I hope he sees

that his voice not only brings light—

it awakens my soul

and other souls, too.

His voice is like a breeze.

His mind, like an ocean.

His heart quakes like the Earth.

He thinks he’s not seen—

not in the way he wants to be.

But he is seen.

His voice is not loud.

It’s soft.

And he is seen,

always.