AlAnoud Writes

There was a desk that learned my name,

in tidy lines, in steady frame,

where days were filed in black and white

and effort dressed itself as right.

I showed up early, stayed a while,

refined the work, rehearsed the smile,

believed that time, if given more,

might open some unspoken door.

The ceilings didn’t press or break,

they simply held, for safety’s sake,

and in that calm, well-ordered air,

I learned how much a silence bears.

I grew.. but sideways, not ahead,

in careful thoughts I never said,

while titles stayed politely still

despite the weight of quiet will.

No moment split the ground in two,

no sudden shift, no clearer view,

just something subtle, almost kind,

that rearranged me from inside.

A gentle sense, too soft to fight:

you’ve done your part, now choose your light,

not out of loss, nor out of spite

just knowing when to step out right.

So I will close what’s neatly done,

no undone threads, no battles won,

just leave behind a well-kept place

that held me once.. but not my pace.

And when they ask, I’ll simply say

it felt like time to move away,

no sharper truth I need to give

just that I’ve learned a different way to live.