**Unwelcome**

The door is open,
but not for me.
Ita the kind of open
that still feels locked-
smiles without warmth,
space without room.

I step inside and everything shifts,
chairs angled slightly away,
conversations tightening
like knots pulled too fast.

No one says *leave*.
They dona have to.
Silence has learned
how to speak fluently.

I make myself smaller,
then realize
even small is too much,
so I stand still
and carry my presence
like a misplaced object.

Being unwelcome teaches you
how heavy a moment can be,
how courage sometimes means
staying soft
in a place that hardens around you.

And when I finally turn backa"not in defeat,
but in knowing-
I take with me this truth:

Some places are not meant to hold you.
That doesna mean
you dona belong.


Penned by my hand on the 25th of Sarapin, in the year 994 AF.