Depths of the Broken Heart

What She Was Missing

Since she was little, she carried 
a heart too big for the world — 
feeling everything in excess: 
love, pain, hope. 
She always gave her all, 
loved as if trying to flood the desert, 
while, for herself, no one gave anything.
She grew up searching for a gesture, 
a sign that, someday, someone would see her. 
She became a woman. 
But inside her, the girl still lives, 
small and anxious, 
waiting for the day 
someone will do for her what was never done: 
offer her, at least, the minimum.

This wait weighs like a shadow. 
On the outside, the strong woman builds bridges, 
knocks down walls, holds up the world. 
On the inside, the fragile girl 
questions herself, hides, blames herself: 
Was I never worthy of being loved? 
The doubt, silent and persistent, 
digs deep roots in her soul. 
Carrying this invisible guilt, 
she forgot how to look herself in the eyes. 
She forgot how to love herself.

But the heart that feels so much 
also resists. 
She continues to love 
as if trying to fix the world, 
even though the emptiness within her 
shouts in endless echoes. 
The same girl — 
so fragile, so exhausted — 
still waits, silently, 
for a gesture, a look, a touch 
that makes her feel what she truly 
has never felt.

Perhaps, though, what she seeks 
isn’t in someone else, 
but in herself. 
Maybe, one day, she will realize 
that the minimum she always waited for 
was, in fact, 
her own embrace. 
And, when that day comes, 
she will become whole: 
not because someone finally saw her, 
but because, for the first time, 
she saw herself 
and realized that the infinite love she gives to the world 
is also worthy of returning home. 
_A.M._