The wound is at her heart,
Her world is apart,
Trying to reach her,
Yet I can't speak with her.

Why is it so tough?
Whenever I see her,
I just stand there,
Frozen in the cold, with just a cough.

Is it my fault?
That I never stood by her,
Or is it her fault?
That she tried others?

I reach for words,
But they never stay,
They slip through my fingers
And fade away.

The day feels different,
But she wouldn’t know,
Once, I was there—
Now, I watch from the shadow.

If I had spoken,
Would things be the same?
Or was I meant to
Lose this game?

Today should be special,
Like the days we once knew,
But time has spoken—
And so, I stay silent too.

A flower I dared not pluck -
out of love for your radiance,  
out of fear of your silent ache,  
out of care for your unfolding,  
out of awe for the life in you.  

The thought of your wither  
was a storm I could not weather;  
so I let you be, untouched,
praying you would bloom,
forever reaching toward the sun.

Letting you bloom was my wish,
but when the storms came too strong,
you decided to wither away,
because the weight of the world,
felt heavier than your light.

Holding the memory of your petals,
I wonder, if my hands, though gentle,
could have held you together or,
if the storms were always destined
to take you back to the earth so soon.

What’s meant stays,  
quiet and sure.  
  
True love waits,  
even when we turn away.  
  
What isn’t ours  
slips,  
like water,  
gone before we know it.

Today was a good day,
but I missed you by my side.
Yesterday was a bad day,
and I longed for your hand in mine.

Now tomorrow is on its way too
I don’t know what it will be,
but I know I’ll be missing you.

I move like water
through our conversation—
I make room for her,
my words beneath my tongue,
I listen with care—talk less.