People like me
don’t speak much—
we read silence
like it’s scripture,
watching the way shadows fall
on people’s faces
when truth gets too loud.

I learned early
that softness
gets mistaken
for weakness,
and honesty
for cruelty.

So I became
a quiet kind of storm—
rage in my ribs,
kindness in my palms,
resentment
sitting neatly behind my teeth.

Some days I’m tired
of pretending I don’t feel it all.
Of swallowing the world
just to keep peace
with people who
would never carry
a piece of me.

But I still stay quiet.
Because people like me
don’t speak much.
We bleed in poems.

The moon has seen everything,
but it never speaks.
It just lingers—
half-lit, half-lost,
dragging tides and secrets in its wake.

I asked it once,
"Did he ever mean it?"
"Will the ache dissolve like salt in water?"
"Why do I still dream in his voice?"
The moon only blinked,
a quiet refusal wrapped in silver.

Nights like this,
I fold myself into the dark,
press my ear against the silence,
listening for answers
that do not come.

Maybe love is just a sky full of questions.
Maybe healing is learning
to stop waiting for the moon to reply.

I miss those days when we had those funny girl talks,
Gossip about everything and anything,
Laughed and judged every creature that came our way,
Talk about how rich we wanted to be,
Our goals and dreams,
And where we wanted to be.

Then life took a turn,
A sudden turn none of us expected,
You changed how my name was saved in your phone ,
From girlfriend with heart emoji to my bare surname,
When I saw that my heart broke into pieces,
It's funny how you act as if everything is okay.

You smile at me, walk with me, laugh with me,
Pretend as if everything is OK,
But you clearly knew something is not right,
Or should I let bygones be bygones?

The memories we made are like precious gems,
Glistening in the sunlight of our minds,
Reminding me of all the joy we shared,
And all the love that we left behind.

So here's to those days and all the ones to come,
May we always find our way back to each other,
And keep the magic of our friendship alive forever.

I carry worlds within my chest,
silent storms I don’t confess.
A smile, a nod,a quiet plea,
hoping someone sees through me.