Almost, But Never Quite

I stand in the space between wanting and waiting,
Between being seen and being overlooked.
I give, I stay, I understand—
Yet somehow, I am always just a step behind.

I laugh, but the echoes feel hollow,
Because the moments I long for slip through my hands.
I reach out, but the air is empty,
And I wonder if I was ever meant to be held at all.

I ask for nothing, yet I crave everything—
Not grand gestures, not the world,
Just a glance, just a moment,
Just the kind of warmth given so freely to others.

I tell myself, "It's okay, I can handle it."
But deep down, I ache.
Not because I need more,
But because I have always been almost, but never quite.