We haven’t met in a long time—
no words,
no footsteps shared,
no updates on life or days.
But somehow,
you still live in the quiet corners of me.
In thoughts that visit uninvited,
in songs that sound like your silence,
in smiles I wear
when no one’s watching.
I don’t need your presence
to feel something warm.
Just the memory of your voice,
the echo of your eyes,
is enough to soften my day.
You became a rhythm in my heart—
steady,
gentle,
familiar.
I don’t reach for you anymore.
I just carry you—
like a beautiful, unfinished song
that still hums beneath my skin.
You’re not here.
But your memory is.
And today,
that’s enough
to make me smile
like we never drifted.

On the last day of college,
I carried a thousand words
pressed between my ribs—
all meant for you.
I wanted to say so much…
That you changed something in me.
That your smile had lived
in my thoughts longer than you'd imagine.
That I noticed everything,
even when I pretended not to.
I wanted to walk up to you,
look into your eyes,
and whisper a simple truth:
“You mattered to me. More than I ever said.”
I wanted to wrap you
in a hug so tight
that maybe you’d feel
what I couldn’t voice.
But I didn’t.
I just stood there,
my curious eyes searching yours—
looking for a sign,
a flicker,
a feeling
that maybe… you felt it too.
And then…
you walked away.
Without a goodbye
and without knowing
that someone stood behind you,
holding back a storm of love
and farewell.
I never said goodbye.
Maybe because
I wasn’t ready for the end.
Maybe because
some goodbyes
are too sacred to speak.

It’s painful,
watching you smile with others,
cheering through life
like I was never standing there—
two steps away,
full of unsaid everything.
You laugh,
and I try to smile too.
But my chest tightens,
because I’ve memorized
how you look when you’re happy—
and it was never because of me.
I was there.
I was always there.
In corners, in corridors,
in pauses between your glances,
in the quiet admiration
you never looked back at.
You lived loud.
And I loved silently.
And maybe you’ll never know
how my whole world would stop
just because you walked by.
How your voice
was the sound my heart leaned toward.
But you never noticed.
And I never asked for more.
Because what could I say?
"Please look at me"
is too small for the kind of love I carried.
So I watched you
from the shadows of my own restraint.
And cheered for you in silence.
And cried for me in secret.

There is so much I wanted to tell you—
but I didn’t.
Not because I didn’t feel it,
but because I felt it too much.
I’ve carried conversations with you
in the quietest corners of my mind,
where you always listened,
and I always spoke.
I wanted to say how your smile
messed with my heartbeat.
How your presence made the world
a little softer, a little warmer.
But I stayed quiet.
Because silence felt safer
than the risk of breaking what little we had.
Because I didn’t want to lose
the only version of you I could hold.
I watched you laugh with others,
while my heart whispered poems
it never dared deliver.
I wanted to ask
if you ever felt it too —
that invisible string pulling gently
when our eyes met in passing.
But I never asked.
Because I’m the silent kind of lover —
the kind who writes your name in thoughts,
not texts.
The kind who chooses
distance over damage,
daydreams over disappointment.
And even now,
I speak to you
through stars,
through wind,
through words you'll never read.
Because some love stories
don’t need to be spoken
to be true.

It was just a hallway,
just a crowd,
just a moment like any other —
until it wasn’t.
You walked in,
and the air felt heavier
or lighter — I couldn’t tell.
But something inside me
forgot how to be still.
My heart,
usually shy and quiet,
started writing verses
against my ribs.
Not words,
but rhythm —
your rhythm.
You didn’t notice,
but my world
stood up in attention.
As if my soul whispered,
“There… that one.”
Your eyes didn’t meet mine,
not then.
But I saw enough to know —
you weren’t just anyone.
You were a question
I’d spend years trying to answer.
That day,
I didn’t fall in love.
I remembered it.
Something ancient in me stirred,
something soft,
something that said,
"You’ve known him before.
And now, here he is again."
And I smiled —
without reason,
without knowing,
without fear.
Because when the right soul enters the room,
your body doesn’t ask why.
It just begins to glow.