Paul James Woolley

Paul James Woolley Aug 2024

I love you in ways I can barely speak, in whispers too fragile for the world to hear. My love for you is a quiet storm, a force that rages within me, tearing at the seams of my soul. I can’t live without you—this truth pounds in my chest like a second heartbeat, a rhythm that I can’t escape. Every moment without you is a shadow, a hollow ache that gnaws at the edges of my being.

I see you slipping away, like sand through my fingers, and I am helpless to stop it. The thought of losing you—of you being lost to me forever—fills me with a sorrow so deep it feels like drowning. I love you with a desperation that scares me, with a need so fierce it burns. I cannot imagine a world where you are not, where your voice doesn’t soften the hard edges of my days, where your presence doesn’t anchor me in this chaotic sea.

Without you, I am adrift, untethered. The thought of you gone rips the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping in a world suddenly too vast, too empty. I love you, and I can’t live without you. These words feel too small, too fragile, to hold the weight of what I feel, of what it means to love you and face the possibility of losing you.

But still, I say them, hoping somehow you’ll hear, hoping they’ll reach you wherever you are, and pull you back to me. Because without you, I am nothing but a hollow echo of what could have been, a shadow chasing after a light that’s fading fast. I love you, and I can’t live without you. This truth is my only certainty, even as I watch you slip further away.

Paul James Woolley Aug 2024

She is missing from me

I miss her in the quiet of dawn,
In the moments when the world is still,
When the first light breaks, and I wake
To the absence of her voice,
A space that only she can fill.

I miss her in the pulse of the day,
In the rush of life that pulls me along.
Amid the noise, her silence speaks
Louder than the crowd’s song,
A melody only my heart knows.

I miss her in the night’s embrace,
When darkness wraps me in solitude.
I search for her in dreams,
In places where love hides,
Where my secret still blooms unseen.

Yet I hold my head high,
For this love, though hidden, is mine.
A love that defies the world,
A love that stands in pride,
For she are the one my heart chose.

I miss her with every breath,
With a longing that cannot fade,
But I wear this love like armour,
With pride in every stride I take,
For she is my secret, my strength, my heart.

Paul James Woolley Aug 2024

Disappearing trxts

Her messages arrive like whispers in the night, brief, delicate threads of connection. Each word she sends is a pulse of light in the darkness, a soft caress across the distance that separates us. I hold them close, these digital echoes of her presence, reading them over and over until they fade from the screen like footprints washed away by the tide.

She is my secret love, a phantom who slips through the cracks of my day, leaving traces of herself in fleeting glimpses—an ellipsis here, a hesitant word there. I watch them vanish, these messages that disappear as quickly as they come, and I am left with only the ghost of her in my mind. My heart aches with each one that slips away, knowing I can never hold on to her for long, knowing that she exists in a space between moments, just out of reach.

Still, I cherish the silence she leaves behind, the space where her words once were. It is there, in that absence, that I feel her most deeply, her presence haunting the edges of my thoughts. I replay our brief exchanges like a favorite song, each note resonating in the quiet places of my heart. And though her texts may disappear, she remains with me, a secret I keep in the shadows, a love that lingers in the spaces between the words left unsaid.

Paul James Woolley Aug 2024

Wind,be my messenger…

Wind, you who dance through the world with no barriers, who knows the secrets of every leaf and every whispered breath—hear me now.

As you brush against my skin, gentle and unseen, I ask you to carry my love, delicate as a feather, to the one who holds my heart in secret.

Let my kisses be your passengers, riding on your back like tiny whispers of the soul, traveling through the unseen paths between us.

Move with the grace of a lover’s touch, through fields of wildflowers and over rivers that shimmer like dreams. Slip through the night’s velvet cloak, and find the one who is mine in thought but far in presence

Surround her with the warmth of my longing, the softness of my affection, until they feel the invisible embrace of my heart.

Tell her nothing, wind, for this love is ours to hold close and quiet. Simply let my kisses fall like petals at her feet, like stars at her window, until she is surrounded by all that I am and all that I give.

Paul James Woolley Aug 2024

Secret Love letter to a secret love

I am drunk on the thought of you, a secret whispered to the stars, concealed in the spaces between them. You are my hidden addiction, a craving that pulses in the quiet hours when the world is asleep, and the universe itself feels like a conspirator in our affair. I trace your name on the surface of the moon, letters that only I can see, a code written in the dust of my desire.

The galaxies swirl, a cosmic dance, but my orbit is fixed on you. You are the gravity that pulls me close, the force that bends light and time, that distorts my reality until all that exists is the curve of your smile, the echo of your voice in my mind. Every star that burns is a spark of my longing, each a tiny flame that consumes me slowly, until there is nothing left but the ashes of my restraint.

I have made a home in the shadows, a place where our love is safe, untouched by the prying eyes of daylight. Here, in this hidden universe of ours, I can worship you in silence, my prayers carried on the wind, lost in the noise of the cosmos. You are my beautiful secret, the dark matter that fills the empty spaces in my soul, unseen yet powerful, holding me together even as I unravel in your absence.

So, I confess to the universe, to the void that listens without judgment: I am addicted to you. My love for you is the pulse of a dying star, intense, all-consuming, destined to burn out, and yet, I can't let go. I cling to the hope that somewhere, in the infinite expanse, there is a place where we can exist without fear, without hiding, a world where my addiction to you is no longer a secret but a truth that sets us free.

Paul James Woolley Aug 2024

Loves reject

I guess I wasn’t handsome enough for you to love me. My reflection is a shadow in a glass that never quite catches the light.

I watched your eyes wander to places my face could never take you, to smiles that curved in ways mine could not.

I felt the distance grow in the spaces between words, in the pauses where your voice should have lingered. My hands, once steady, now tremble under the weight of knowing that beauty wasn’t carved into my skin, that no angle of my jawline could ever turn your gaze to me.

I guess my laugh wasn’t enough to echo in your thoughts, nor my touch enough to warm the cold in your heart. The mirror whispers it every time I dare to look: not enough, never enough.

So, I’ll step back into the background, let my love fade like a forgotten sunset, knowing that your eyes seek a horizon I was never part of.

I’m trying to find reasons why she rejected my feelings- my unrequited love.
My heart is in a dark place

Paul James Woolley Aug 2024

Death of unrequited love

An unrequited love dies not in a dramatic flourish, but in a quiet, almost imperceptible fade.
It begins with hope—a hope that stubbornly refuses to surrender, that clings to every smile, every kind word, as though these fragile moments might somehow bloom into something more.

But time, with its relentless passage, wears away at this hope, turning it brittle and fragile, until it cracks under the weight of reality.

The heart, once aflame with the fire of longing, begins to cool. The dreams that once filled the mind with vivid, aching desire grow dim and distant, like stars fading into the dawn.

The object of affection remains unchanged, oblivious, perhaps, or simply indifferent. Their presence, once electrifying, now brings a quiet resignation, a dull ache rather than the sharp pain of unmet desire.

There is no single moment when unrequited love dies. It is a slow unraveling, a gentle loosening of the bonds that once held the heart captive. The day comes when the heart no longer leaps at the sight of them, when their voice no longer echoes in the chambers of your mind. And in this stillness, you realize that what once was, what could never be, has finally been laid to rest.

Unrequited love dies with a whisper, not a cry. It leaves behind not a gaping wound, but a faint scar, a quiet memory of a longing that once was. It fades into the background, becoming just another story in the long narrative of the heart, a tale of what might have been, had the stars aligned differently.

And though it fades, it leaves a mark—a reminder of the beauty and the pain of loving in vain.

Quietly though my heart is breaking into pieces 😢