Silent Pulse

I erased myself before the world could do it for me yet my body remained, breathing, longing, remembering.

There is a strange kind of beauty in being faceless no expectations, no history, just a shape made of tenderness and unfinished truth.

Touch me with silence, see me without recognizing for I am more than a name, more than a face, more than the version of me the world wanted.

Here, in this quiet frame I exist, even if I remain unknown.