soul; an archive of feelings, a vulnerable collection of eleven entries. an true archive of feelings. mysterie's first ever project.

these entries are very special and vulnerable, mysterie hopes to connect with fellow poets and poetry lovers with these entries.

the archives:
- i waited
- the way i used to
- the ocean knows me
- waiting
- i still care
- where the soul weeps
- tsunami
- begin again
- the book you left open
- dusk
- chosen

texts never sent, is nysterie's second ever project. consisting of five texts, going to either a crush, a friend, a parent, enemy or even her future self.. somehow.

these unsent texts reveal her true feelings on the situation and what she should've said in the moment, but never did.

https://textsneversent.straw.page << the project page

the texts:
- i just needed you to know
- drifting
- im still me
- not worth my voice
- one for the books

i like to think
you found my soul
before i had even
discovered
what it meant
to hand it over.

you whispered
forevermore
like it was a spell,
one you weren't planning
on keeping.
and i believed it.
because your eyes
said it
first.

and now you
walk past me
with that same mouth --
but it never
says my name.
yet i sit
with everything you left
unspoken,
sort of like a story
im rewriting
just to feel
chosen.

i always say
that im fine.
its like driftwood --
something to
cling to
while the waves
pull harder.

but my soul...
it doesnt
float
like how it
used to.
instead,
it now aches
quietly
beneath the surface.
still calling
for something
that is forever
gone.

the ocean,
she knows me --
the way i carry calm
on the outside,
but also the way
i drown
on the inside.

i always say
im okay
like a shoreline lie.
but my soul
still listens
for the footsteps
that aren't returning
ever again.

and i keep on
caring --
quietly,
like the tide
always going out,
but never
coming back
the same as
before the
water.

funny,
how a person can turn into
a kind of silence --
like a voice
that never even left,
but stopped answering
all the calls
you swore
were mutal. 

you had called it
fading.
i called it
staying
in the smaller ways --
as in
the way i check
my phone
at dusk
like a ritual,
as if you'd just
appear.
because the sky
turns soft enough
for second
chances.

if missing someone
counts as calling --
i never really stopped
calling
for you.

i had an epiphany
while walking home --
that forever
isn't always
a promise.
it's sometimes just
a word.
one we say
to feel safe.

and that's the sad part --
i believed it.
i believed that
you meant it
when you said
that we were
forever.
i believed that you
meant it when
you looked at me
like i was
the ending
to your sentence.

now you pass me
like you never
started the story
in the first place.
yet im stil
trying to close a book
you left open.

the link if you wanna read it before it's uploaded here 🤍🤍

https://textsneversent.straw.page

and just like that
it's the first --
again.
a new month
arrives all too quickly
and too quietly
to prepare for.

they always say
that it's a chance
to start over,
to make new goals.
but i'm still stuck
in last months
grief.
in love that never
stayed.

everything now
feels muted --
calm
and in the wrong way.
its sort of like
the silence
after a gentle storm
you didn't see
was the end.

i used to think
love
was loud.
but the truth is,
it leaves
quickly
and quietly...
and all at once.

i told myself
that you never meant
to just
vanish --
but the silence came
like a tide,
slow
and steady
until it swallowed me
whole.

i watched the waves,
they pulled back too.
far enough
that i knew
what was coming,
wasn't just quiet.
it was a tsunami
disguised
as distance.

i waited
intently --
not because you promised,
but because my soul
believed that you
still could.

now every crashing thing
reminds me
of you.
not the goodbye,
but instead the space
you never filled again.

you touched my hand.
and it felt like
it wasn't the first time --
it was like
your fingers already knew
my own,
in some kind of
quiet before.

my heart,
it doesn't cry --
it stays
deadly silent.
like it's learnt
how to not cry
but instead,
ache quietly.

but my soul --
my soul weeps.
not tears atleast,
but in the way
that when i hear
your name
i flinch
at the sound.

theres no breaking.
no audible noise.
just a heart,
that folded in
on itself,
and a soul --
one that doesn't know
how to stop
feeling.

i say
"i don't care"
like it's a piece of armour --
almost like if i say it
enough
itll become
true.

but my soul,
it still aches.
in the middle of the
darkness,
in the silence,
it remebers
what my mouth
tries to forget.

i don't care.
but only
out loud,
the rest of me
still cares --
in the darkness,
and in the silence.

i keep on
waiting --
like the pause
after asking a
question that
nobody
answers.

my tears,
they dont fall loudly
anymore.
instead --
they sit behind my
eyes,
like letters
that i
never sent.

i write to you
in my head --
it's not the same.
folding paper thoughts
into quiet,
dark,
corners of my mind,
and pretending
you might still
be calling
me back
someday.

but theres only
ever silence,
no evidence,
and me --
still waiting
for someone
who had
let go
first.

i stopped crying
the way i used to --
stopped being loud,
messy,
and instead 
became
quieter.
just quiet enough 
for no one 
to ask me
what's wrong.

your name --
it still lives
in my phone.
untouched.
but never deleted,
just
in
case
you ever 
call.

isn't it funny
how someone
can stay
like a lump
in your throat --
long after
you stop
calling their name
out loud.

i don't cy
for you anymore.
but gosh,
sometimes i wish
you'd just give me
a reason to
still
cry
over you
because somehow
not calling
your name aloud
hurts more.

you didnt call.
you never really did.
but my soul
still waited --
it waited quietly,
like it does
every night
you forget
how much
i actually
feel.

i check my phone
like its a ritual
that keeps me alive,
like maybe --
missing me,
is something
you'll eventually
remeber
how to do.

there are names
that i see
light up my screen
that aren't yours --
yet my chest
still tightens
just
in
case.

you used to
always say
that i knew you
too well.
but maybe that's
why i can feel
your silence
before it even
arrives in my hands.

my soul
never asks
for much anymore;
just a call,
a voice,
just something --
to prove
that you had once
felt
more.

her with the dark hair.
her with the ocean blue eyes.
her with the gummy smile.
her with the loud laugh.
her.
she's the one that
completely lights up
my day.
she's the one that
can change my mood
with a snap
of her fingers.

i keep looking
for the meaning
in small things --
like in the way she says
my name,
somehow it sounds
so right.
or how silence
still answers me.

happiness
to me
was her laugh
spilling into my lap
like sunlight --
warm.
and mine,
before i i knew
i needed it,
needed her.

some moments
dont come back to you --
but when they do,
they usually always
bring the laughter
you still remeber
the shape of.

and for a second,
you're there again --
happy
and full of
joy.
whithout even
trying
to be.

love,
to me,
felt like warm rain --
it was
gentle,
but still somehow
it was just enough
to soak me
completely.

they're together.
his hand
holds hers in public,
and everyone calls it love --
like no one else
could be
what she really
wants.
what she really
desires.

but little does he know --
that when she looks at me,
it's different.
gentle.
sweet.
almost softer,
like shes thinking about
kissing me
instead.

as if she's
already
chosen.

and just like that,
it's the first --
again.
a new month.
it's like a blank page
i dont want
to write on.

the calendar flips
its pages
like it's nothing,
but i can feel it --
the pressure
of doing it all better
this time.

new goals.
new lists.
new promises
i probably won't
keep.

everyone says
that it's a
"fresh start"
like thats supposed
to make me feel
hopeful.
happy.

but it honestly
just feels like
a reset button.
the one i never
asked for.

like change
i'm too tired
to chase.

my chest
doesn't scream --
it hums
with a stabbing pain
too polite
to interupt.

my soul
it still reaches
for hands
that no longer
reach back
to me.

i dont always feel
like im growing,
like im changing --
but even flowers
take their time
to bloom
and to change.

there was a time
where i truly
believed
"right person, wrong time"
was the closest
i would ever
be
to love.

like timing was a
thief
and i was made
to ache
forevermore.

but then,
i saw her.
it wasn't that kind
of love where
its loud
and cinematic,
almost movie worthy.
it was just
her smile,
and then suddenly --
my chest
hadn't felt so
heavy
anymore.

they never tell you
that love
at first sight
can feel like
healing,
like coming home
to a version
of yourself
that has been lost,
or so you thought.

she didn't just
come into my life.
she healed,
quietly
and softly --
just being there and
not asking
what broke me.

i had gotten
closer
than i
should've --
and i still
remeber
how it felt
to almost
be loved.

it was
a nice
feeling.

i looked into
her hazel eyes
a little too long --
which had
surprisingly
been long enough
to wonder
if forever
could fit
in
a
glance.

some nights,
i cry
so quietly
that it feels
like my
soul
is the one
that is doing all
the crying
for me.

i refused to
call it more
than a blunder.
the way i looked at her --
too long.
but maybe
my heart
had just
slipped.

it wasn't stupid,
what you did,
you were in a moment --
and moments
can sometimes feel
like forever.
especially when
your chest is too full
and your options too small.

you felt trapped,
kind of like
every single door
you tried
was locked
from the inside,
and the walls
we're quietly
caving in
on you.

but there was no
clear solution.
there was
only noise,
only ache.
yet you still
did what you could
to survive it.

and that was
never
stupid.
it was
human.

she is
glorious --
in that golden-hour
type of way.
it looks like
she was dipped
in the kind of light
that you can't touch,
but admire.

i listen intently
as she talks about
boys
like she's reading it
from a script
that fits her mouth
almost too
easily.

and i sit there,
i smile and nod,
trying not to look
at her lips
when she stops
paying attention to
my eyes.

she says im her favourite,
her safest place,
her soul sister even --
and i say..
"me too."
yet it still aches
like a confession
i can't give
to her.
to anyone, really.

she's glorious.
and i love her
in the quietest form --
the one that
lets her go
every day
without thinking about
telling her
i ever wanted to
stay.

i feel
like im
unfinished --
almost like
my life is a story
only half-told
with too many
blank pages
left.

we're not friends exactly,
not really --
but
we're not more
than that either.
there's an awkward inbetween.

you laugh at my jokes
like you care,
and sometimes
on the rare occasion
you text first --
which is just enough
to trap yourself
in my head.

whatever we are,
it isn't nothing.
but it's never
been right
to call it
something more.

and maybe
that's the worst part --
not the part
where i lose you,
but the part
where i
never really
have you
to call
mine.

i used to think
you just felt butterflies
for boys --
the funny,
immature,
class clowns.

but now,
i know:
the butterflies don't care
who makes them flutter.
it might be a boy.
it could also be
a girl with a
soft smile
and freckles.

and maybe
girls make them flutter
more than boys.
or maybe...
someone else does.
maybe no one does.

and that's okay.

i saw something
on tiktok today
that would've made
you laugh --
for a moment there,
i almost sent it.

...

then i remembered,
we don't do that
anymore.
not out of hate.
not out of frustration.
not out of spite.
just distance.
just time.
just change.

...

but i still miss you
in the quiet ways
and like a silent burn --
like reaching for a hand
that isn't
there anymore
and one that never
got the chance to say
goodbye.

she was dangerous
and in the most
silent form --
she wasn't fire,
but she was
a glance
that always
stayed
too
long.

most days,
i carry it all
in silence --
it's like a bag
without handles.

...

grief,
expectation,
the weight of being
the one
who doesn't
fall apart
out loud.

...

no one ever
sees it,
but it's heavy
in my spine,
my jaw,
my lungs,
the way i forget
to breathe.

...

but i carry it
because i have to.
becuase letting it go --
letting it all fall
and come crashing down --
feels
worse.

i left behind
a version of me
that night,
at the concert,
on that arena floor --
lighter,
louder,
happier,
and still dancing
in a city
i don't live in.

i never lived there,
but i miss it
like it was home.
like i left something behind --
a version of me
still bundled up
in those hotel sheets,
in the merch line,
and in the way we laughed
way 
too loud
under those
neon blue signs.

it was just a weekend,
but the city held me
like it knew me.
like it didn't care
where i had flown from
as long as i sang
with everything
i had.

now im home.
but im not all here,
i left a version of myself
on that floor
of that arena,
still glowing.
still screaming.
still full
of everything
i want to feel again.

i left a piece of myself
in a city
i don't live in.
and some nights,
it feels like that version
of me
had it better --
louder laughter,
lighter shoulders,
less worry,
a heartbeat
in sync
with the music
she lives for.

and i wonder
if she's still
out there somewhere,
dancing along
to the beat.

make the art you search for
the kind of art
you never find
but always feel.

the kind that
holds your hurt
without asking a million times,
"why?"
the kind that feels
like being seen.

and maybe it's not out there
because it's waiting
for you
to create it.

i met you
on a quiet tuesday,
in the soft sunlight 
of a small beach café.
you looked bored --
so i walked over,
and we got to talking.

that same day,
two years later --
i walked back
into that café.
on a quiet tuesday.
in the same soft sunlight.
i ordered the same drink.

and i saw you,
from afar.
i didn't dare go over.
you were just bored.
and i was never
enough
to cure that alone.

you're in my life
everywhere i go.
it's like you've been
permanently placed --
as if someone
put you there
to stay
forever.

and i hate
that i can't escape you.
you hurt me.
so why are you
still everywhere
i go?..

there are no sides in this --
im telling you.
im not on her side,
im not on yours,
im not even on mine.
things happen
you just have to find
an outlet --
a way to feel
without yelling
in eachothers faces.

my room --
it's away from the people,
the anxiety, 
the problems,
my grades,
my friends,
my co-workers --
it's just my room.
my sanctuary.

i can move things around
whenever i please,
shift the space
to make it more me.
it's mine.
and its peace.
it's my sanctuary.

your face,
infront of mine --
you look so heavenly
up close.
your breath grazes mine,
our noses
almost touch...
but i blink,
and you're gone. 
you're just a figment
of my imagination.

your favourite colour
was blue.
maybe it still is,
i wouldn't know.
but whenever i see
that deep shade of blue,
that isn't too deep to be
navy and thoughts,
but also not
light enough to be
ashy and gentle,
i think of you.
this was your colour.
and i still
see you in it.

there's a feeling
in my chest --
it's a chemical ache
that fizzles
like soda,
when you pop the can open,
it happens every time
i see
her.

i think about her
way more than she knows --
shes like a song
stuck in my teeth,
or a dream
that won't leave my head.
it won't wash off.

she laughs
and i hear it for days.
she touches my shoulder
and my whole body,
instantly tries to memorize
the feeling.

this isn't love,
not yet atleast --
it's limerence.
the unbearable
maybe.
the ache that is shaped
like hope
with nowhere to land.

i always forget
that this globe 
spins,
even when i feel
like im stuck.
somewhere,
someone is falling in love
at the same time
that im falling apart.

...

i hold a snow globe --
the one from the family 
christmas, back in 2016.
i shake it --
watch it storm inside,
and i think,
maybe im still learning
how to settle
after everything
swirls.
after the mess.

...

the world is round,
but it never
feels like it comes back
to me.

i think there's more
than what my small hands can hold --
something
beneath the name of things.
an unusual silence
inside sound,
a reason
behind my ache.

maybe love
isn't the smile
or the warmth --
maybe it's the thing
that lingers
once she's gone.
maybe its
the truth,
not the feeling.
the ghost,
not the soft kiss.

and maybe im not only
skin,
voice,
and wanting --
maybe i am
what watches
from behind 
my own two blue eyes,
trying to grasp
an understanding
of what any
of this
means.

ill never see the whole of it.
maybe im not meant to.
perhaps the knowing
isn't just in the visuals,
the seeing --
instead its in believing
that there's something
there.