Words alone are not poetry,
not every sound deserves a soul.
Conversations pass like footsteps,
heard once, then lost to time.
Poetry is when words learn to feel,
when silence between lines starts speaking.
It is a gentle ache in the chest,
a pause where the heart listens.
Poetry is not said — it is felt.
It stays after the voice is gone,
touching something deep and unnamed
each time it’s read,
each time it’s heard.
Dec 20, 2025
Dec 20, 2025 at 11:04 PM UTC
Words alone are not poetry,
not every sound deserves a soul.
Conversations pass like footsteps,
heard once, then lost to time.
Poetry is when words learn to feel,
when silence between lines starts speaking.
It is a gentle ache in the chest,
a pause where the heart listens.
Poetry is not said — it is felt.
It stays after the voice is gone,
touching something deep and unnamed
each time it’s read,
each time it’s heard.