Yellow Person

You are the calm in my wildest storm,

The gentle heart, the constant warm.

A place where secrets go to rest,

And truths can pour without a test.

I hand you pieces I’ve long concealed,

Wounds half-closed and never healed.

But you don’t flinch, you don’t retreat,

You sit with me, no need to speak.

No gavel raised, no heavy gaze,

Just quiet light in tangled haze.

You hold my fears like fragile thread,

And never question what I’ve said.

A yellow soul — soft and rare,

Who listens more than most would dare.

Not just a friend, but something true—

A kind of peace I never knew.