I Want Poem by Za7ra Sulaiman

i want
I want to be defined by the things that I love.
Not by the things that hollowed me out.
Not by the sharp edges I learned to live around.
Not by the fears that stalk me in the dark
when the world forgets I'm still trying.
I don't want to be remembered as the girl who flinched,
who cried behind closed doors,
who vanished in the middle of her own becoming.
I want to be remembered
for the way my eyes lit up when I talked about
old books that smelled like dust and daydreams,
songs that made me feel like I belonged somewhere—
even if it was just for three minutes and forty-two seconds.
Let me be the color pink—
not the loud, glittering kind,
but soft pink,
the color of rose quartz,
of quiet mornings,
of bruised skies right before dusk.
Let me be the sweet aroma of Sakura in bloom,
filling the air like a gentle promise—
that something beautiful can still survive,
even after everything.
Let me be poetry scribbled in the margins,
misspelled and sacred,
the kind you read when you're too tired to speak
but still want to be understood.
Let me be cats sleeping in the sun,
dreaming of nothing urgent.
Let me be small kindnesses.
Let me be stillness.
Let me be softness that fought to exist.
And most of all—
let me be that tiny library tucked in the corner of the town,
the one no one notices at first,
but once you step inside,
you never want to leave.
Quiet, yes—but full of life.
A little fragile.
But full of stories.
I don't want to be the wound.
I want to be the warmth.
You are what you love.
And I'm trying so hard
to love beautiful things—
so I can become one.