Foolishness is something
I came to know
only after what I did.
Do I regret it, you ask?
I can barely look into your eyes.
I remember the words,
the noise we made,
how laughter came so easily
whenever I was near you.
The loving awkwardness
resting in that space,
and how we remained there
without moving away.
No one spoke,
and it seems
no one ever will.
Still, I loved it there -
how your eyes mirrored mine,
how even our humor
could intertwine.
But you were never mine.
Perhaps I made a mistake.
You bared your heart openly,
more than I wanted to admit,
while I kept mine hidden.
Do I regret it, you ask?
I can only remain
inside the memory
I never erased.
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 7:44 AM UTC
Foolishness is something
I came to know
only after what I did.
Do I regret it, you ask?
I can barely look into your eyes.
I remember the words,
the noise we made,
how laughter came so easily
whenever I was near you.
The loving awkwardness
resting in that space,
and how we remained there
without moving away.
No one spoke,
and it seems
no one ever will.
Still, I loved it there -
how your eyes mirrored mine,
how even our humor
could intertwine.
But you were never mine.
Perhaps I made a mistake.
You bared your heart openly,
more than I wanted to admit,
while I kept mine hidden.
Do I regret it, you ask?
I can only remain
inside the memory
I never erased.
A poem written without hiding.
