A Guest In The Gallery Poem by cassidy Lovato

You see me smile on a glowing screen
a snapshot, a story, a captioned dream.
But that's not me. Not really.
It's a moment I chose, a frame I cropped,
a version polished and softly stopped
to keep the noise out.

You think you're close, but you're just passing through.
Scrolling isn't knowing.
Double-taps don't build bridges.
You don't know where I've been,
what's heavy in my chest,
or what laughter filled my kitchen this week.
You see what I shared,
not what I carry.

If your only glimpse of me is pixels and posts,
you're not truly part of my life
you're a guest in the gallery,
not a hand on my shoulder.

True connection isn't a highlight reel.
It's the check-ins, the calls,
the how are you really?
It's sitting in the silence,
showing up unfiltered,
making time, not just taking peeks.

If you want to know me,
don't just watch me
reach for me.
Velcro souls don't stick by accident.