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.