Let Me Be by Arianaemu

If I cannot be yours in this lifetime,
let me be the bird that sings outside your window
when the world forgets to be kind.
Let me be the wind
that dries the sweat on your neck
when you walk home from grief.

Let me be the shirt you wear,
touched by your skin,
washed with the scent of your hours.

Let me be the dust on the road
you tread when you’re lost.
Let me be the streetlamp
flickering above your head
when you come back too late,
and no one is waiting.

I do not wish to be yours
not because I don’t want to
but because I’d ruin you.
Because love like mine is wildfire,
and you deserve rain.

You deserve a quiet life.
I only know how to bleed.
You deserve laughter in the kitchen,
not someone who trembles
when the silence gets too long.

So bury me close to your path.
Let the soil drink my bones
until a tree grows.
And when its branches bloom,
let your children
pick the flowers
and laugh.

Let them never know
they’re holding me.

And maybe someday
I’ll be the bird in your garden,
the flower on your table,
the shadow that moves with your feet.

If I cannot be yours,
let me be
everything
that stays.

Hi, I’m Ariana Afrin Emu, a 22-year-old poet from Dhaka, Bangladesh. I write about love, loss, identity, and all the chaos in between. My work is personal, emotional, and often a little messy—just like real life. I’m currently working on my first poetry collection, Doesn’t Make Any Sense, a book full of raw thoughts, metaphors, and moments that shaped me.