the moon is a whisper
on my bedroom wall,
she's ten times louder in my head

her name is a tide
it pulls,
it tugs,
it etches itself
on the inside of my eyelids.

every blink is a memory i didn't ask for
her laugh-
uninvited
but welcome
always

the bed is too big
for one body and this much longing
some nights
sleep forgets me
other nights
she replaces it

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

grief doesn't knock-
it slips in
wearing her perfume,
that strong vanilla scent
it sits beside me in silence,
and stays longer than memory.

her with the dark hair.
her with the hazel 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 always stare
at the stars
in the middle of nowhere,
because you liked constellations.
we used to find them together --
drawing silly lines in the sky
like the universe
made sense if we
connected the dots.

now i lie there,
in the middle of nowhere,
staring at the stars --
alone.
the sky holds them,
but it doesn't feel like it used to.
i can see orion
and i remeber
vividly
how your fingers traced it on my arm
like i was part of the sky too.

but you're not here anymore.
but i keep looking up,
at the constellations,
the bright stars..
just in case
you're still searching
but from somewhere
i can't see.

talk to me.
stop staring from afar
i don't want stolen glances-
i want us.
i want your love.
i want your hand in mine.

i don't need to see you
across the room
laughing with another man
why couldn't it be me?
the girl you stare at
watch from afar-
making sure she's okay
quietly,
making sure she's not
seeing anyone else
you should talk to me
talk to me
instead of watching
instead of wondering
making sure
im not taken
im here
i just want
to be spoken to
by you.

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

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

i know that we're drifting.
i don't want to think its real.
i don't want to know what happens to us.
our friendship --
meant so much.
i'd hate to lose it.
i don't want that.
i want us to stay close,
stay friends.
i just need you in my life.

i need to tell you about all the gossip --
all my crushes,
all my weird fashion choices.
i need to tell you,

because i don't want to drift.

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.

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

you call me petal,
suddenly im blushing
like a rose in the morning
before the sun knows to look away

your fingers brush against mine
and something blooms --
not loudly,
but like orchids
deciding its time.

you always smell like wild lavender
and stolen hours,
like the kind of spring
you never see coming
until it's already
wrapped around your ribs.

i used to hate snowdrops.
they're too open, too soft.
now i plant them into poems
because they remind me of you --
brave
enough
to bloom anyway.

this thing between us
isn't fireworks.
it's passion,
it's roots,
and patience
it feels like sunlight shared on a park bench
where your head finds my shoulder
and stays.

you kissed me once --
you were drunk,
and it was once,
just once --
and then laughed like it was nothing
but your hand lingered
just half a second too long.
half a second.

you held my secrets
like folded contracts,
terms tucked
into your quiet,
and sneaky glances
like maybe
you were hoping,
and praying that i wouldn't read them.
or try to.

i should've known.
love was never in bold.
it was small,
curved quietly into the margin
of every almost we had pretended
didn't matter to us,
to me,
to anyone,
at all.

now you hold her hand
in public.
and i hold
all the things
you never said --
only highlighted,
neon yellow,
and in hindsight.

i should've read the terms,
the conditions,
the fine print.
should've known.

to be a teenager is to be in those social media group chats
to be a teenager is to know the hot goss, to know everyone's life
to be a teenager is to gush over boys and giggle when they look at you
to be a teenager is to be reckless, and funny, and happy
it's a social norm
it's known that if you don't do any of that, you're left out

so no, I'm not in the group chat with the funny name
no, i don't know the hot goss on jenny and tyler
no, I don't like any boys — i'm trying to figure out my sexuality
no, i don't like to be reckless, i'm not funny and...
i'm not happy
but maybe being a teenager isn't just that-
maybe it's the quiet, chaotic, messy in-betweens
maybe it's the questions with no answers yet
maybe it's the becoming, not the being
.....right?

sunlight spills
across her face,
the warm glow seeping
through the curtains
quietly,
while she sleeps --
like the morning
is in love with her too.

her lashes catch
the warm sun,
like she's dreaming
in golden.
i stay still,
quiet,
gentle --
not because i might wake her,
but because i don't want
to break
the moment.

you only ever call --
when she doesn't answer
to your pleas.
i pick up anyway,
just to hear
a voice --
one that won't
choose me.

i forget, sometimes,
that everyone has their own world
just as full as mine.

that ******* the bus,
she always has blue glitter on her eyelids,
she has someone
she cries over
when it rains.

and that boy,
who laughs a little too loud in the hallways --
he has a grandmother
she calls him every sunday.
he has a playlist
that he never shares.

i forget
that lives unfold around me,
not just mine.
no one else's life
pauses
just because im not
in the same room as them.
they're full of joy,
grief,
midnight cravings,
and rom com dreams
that don't star me.

but tonight?
the warm city lights
look like conversations
ill never hear --
and i remeber.

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.

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.

"we are not a phase"
they had told us
to whisper our pronouns
hide our true colours painted on flags
like shame folds easier
than truth.

they say,
"love has rules"
but only when it looks
a certain way,
and we never looked
they way they had wanted,
the way they expected us to be.

but we exist
in full colour --
in quiet,
soft,
gentle first kisses,
in second glances that were held
a little too long by most,
in the hands that tremble
but still reach.

we are not a debate.
we are certainly not a phase.
we are stories
that are still being written,
in chalk
on our skin,
in protest,
and in poems.

and when they try to erase us,
who we are,
we come back.
louder.
softer.
screaming for rights.
still here.

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.

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?..

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

i hated poetry
always dreaded it-
writing it
and reading it
i thought it was just word *****
but made pretty
with italics,
because it never made sense.

then i turned fourteen,
got a job,
lost friends,
lost family members,
grades dropped,
everything shifted.
i started listening to spoken word on spotify-
to quiet my brain
for a minute or two

but i understood them
maybe it was maturing...
or just... feeling more?
all i know is-
my brain flipped a switch
now i write
now i enjoy it.

i don't know why i ever hated
something this honest
something this messy
this beautiful.

im tempted --
to dial your number,
to send that text,
to drive to yours,
to run into your arms.

im tempted.
because i miss you.
i miss your warmth,
your scent --
that cold vanilla
and lavender scent
that was yours,
and only yours.

but most of all
im tempted
to just cry.
crying over you
sounds like a waste of tears.
but it'll just 
have to do.
because for now,
its all i have.
and you're not here.

...and i don't think
you'll be coming
back.

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 finally told them
and the silence --
it felt heavier
than any slur could.
i didn't mean to break them,
i just wanted
to be whole.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

it’s funny how people grow apart —
one day you’re laughing,
the next,
you’re not texting
or calling
or sending dumb memes

a girl i used to know
stopped calling one day
sent a birthday text —
like a ghost with good manners
i haven’t seen her in months,
she’s an old friend.

maybe it’s just the cycle of things.
maybe we’ll find our way back.
but that doesn’t make it hurt
any less.

im thinking too much
again.
why won't you say anything?
all i said was --
"i miss you"
is that too much?
am i too much?
am i not enough?
should i love you?
it's only been a week..
i can make myself --
if it makes you happy.
am i texting too often?
did i send the wrong emojis?
was i not funny enough today?
not talkative enough?

****.
im thinking too much..
again.

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 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.

we still talk-
only in echoes now
you send memes
instead of midnight thoughts
or how your mum finally said
"im proud of you"

our laughter-
it used to fill rooms
theatres when we watched a comedy
but now-
it just barely stirs the surface
and i think
we both feel it

there's a silence between us
it hums
between messages
the long pauses
they don't even ask to be broken.
no fight,
no storm,
just the soft unraveling
of something
that was once knotted tightly.

maybe that's
how some tides go-
not crashing
just quietly
pulling back
pulling away softly
without a sound

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.

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.

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

https://textsneversent.straw.page

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

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.