Hidden Rose

I See You...

I never knew her before him.

But I’ve heard enough of her “before” stories
to know I wish I did.

She existed

not as a shadow,
not as someone’s proof of concept,

remembered in fragments
that don’t match
the person sitting across from me now.

Now his name is her catchphrase.

She says it so often
I’ve developed a physical reaction,
a small, involuntary wince,

like my body is trying
to dodge it.

We can’t even decide where to eat
without his name hitting the table first.

Over every suggestion,
he’s the ghost
presiding over the menu.

The second his name
lights up her caller ID,
she jumps

like he has summoning powers

then glances at her watch
every few seconds

as if afraid
she’s already failed him.

This man contributes nothing to the world
but has theories about all of it,

and she carries them,
recites them,
signs them with her mouth.

Sometimes she slips.

Says something unscripted.

Sharp,
or funny,
or real.

And for a second
I see her.

The her I think I could love.

The her who could outtalk him,
outthink him,
leave him gasping for air
in a debate.

But then she notices herself,
hears the wrong frequency
in her own voice,

and snaps herself back
into the comfort
of his vocabulary.

Each time
I’m left with that awful split feeling

to love her to pieces
in the rare flashes
where she forgets the act,

and to absolutely hate her
in the moment
she slips back

into the role
of devoted mouthpiece.

She behaves like a battered woman
with no bruises on her skin,

only a mind
beaten into something
unrecognizable.

It’s exhausting

watching someone vanish
and return

in the span
of a conversation.

Like trying to be friends
with a person
and their ventriloquist dummy
at the same time,

never sure which one’s speaking,
only certain
which one’s in control.

And maybe I hate her

because she’s what
I might have become

if I had stayed
in the wrong rooms
a little longer.

And I can’t forgive
either of us for it.

---

This piece reimagined as a song using Suno (lyrics are mine).

---

Lyrics:

Verse 1
I heard about the girl you were
Before you met that man
The one who carried color
Without asking if you can
If a word comes out too vibrant
It trails like a petal falling away
Like you’re learning when to bloom
Or asking if it is okay

Chorus
You turn from the window
Trying not to face the sun
Swearing by the shadows
You’ve made a life from

And there’s another version of you
You think no one knows
But I see it, you’re a hidden rose
(I see you)

Verse 2
You say things that don’t sound like you
But you wear them like they fit
Like love means slowly trading
Every piece of who you are for it

Then you laugh in a way that’s real
And it catches me off guard
Like a girl I want to be around
Just wandered through the yard

Chorus
You turn from the window
Trying not to face the sun
Swearing by the shadows
You’ve made a life from

And there’s another version of you
You think no one knows
But I see it, you’re a hidden rose
(somewhere in there)

Bridge
Maybe what gets to me
Is how close I came
I almost learned to wilt for him
(almost)
I was almost just the same

I almost grew in shadows too
Thinking no one knows
Until I decided
I am no one’s hidden rose

Final Chorus
Stop turning from the window
Stand and face the sun
Stop swearing by the shadows
You’ve made your life from

I swear there’s another version of you
The one you think no one knows
Stop being hidden, simply be a rose
(just be a rose)

---

Author’s Note:

I have a friend I care about deeply. I love her like a sister. But if I’m being honest, sometimes she gets on my nerves. That sounds mean when I say it out loud, but the truth is more complicated than that.

The frustrating part is that I see glimpses of this incredible person. Every once in a while she says something and I’m reminded of who she really is. The person I enjoy being around. The person I admire.

But then it disappears.

She married a man who seems to have convinced her that his thoughts are the right ones, his opinions the important ones. She can’t finish a sentence without starting it with, “my husband says.” And every time I hear it, there’s a part of me that wants to shake her and ask, “But what do you say?”

I care about her deeply, but I’ve had to put some distance between us. Not because of her exactly, but because of who she becomes when she’s speaking for him instead of herself. It’s exhausting trying to have a conversation with someone who feels like a mouthpiece for another person.

And my feelings about it are messy. Part of me is annoyed by it. Part of me feels sorry for her. And another part of me recognizes something uncomfortable in it, because I know how easy it is to become that person. I know how close I came to disappearing inside someone else’s voice once myself.

Her middle name is Rose, and she loves roses. So when I started writing this piece, that image kept coming to mind, a rose that’s still there, still capable of blooming, but turned away from the sun where no one really gets to see it.

This song came from those mixed feelings: loving someone, missing who they could be, and watching them hide the best parts of themselves for someone who doesn’t deserve them.

---

*Don’t worry, everything’s still free.

I’ve just decided to treat my writing a little more like busking.

There’s a tip jar out now,

you can donate if something I’ve written ever stuck with you,

but there’s zero pressure.

Honestly, even better than donations?

Restacks. Shares. Comments.

That’s the currency that keeps the cage alive.

From the cage,

Canary Vale 🪶

Poemsbycanary@gmail.com