There are words I never speak, yet they echo in my mind,  
Like whispers of a love unclaimed, a bond undefined.  
She stands there, untethered, a dream I cannot chase,  
Yet every thought of mine finds solace in her embrace.  
  
I send her verses, the echoes of my soul,  
She reads, she smiles, yet never takes the role.  
She says she won't be mine, yet she never drifts away,  
Like the moon that lights my night but never meets the day.  
  
And I wonder—what am I to her? A fleeting thought, a gentle phase?  
Am I the endless sky she gazes at, or the home where she stays?  
Like Amrita’s heart torn between the vast and the known,  
Am I the dream she admires or the shelter she calls home?  
  
I wish she knew the weight of my silence, the storm in my chest,  
The longing in my veins, the ache that never rests.  
But love is cruel, it lets you feel but keeps you blind,  
It makes you yearn for presence, yet leaves you behind.  
  
Could I be both? The sky she soars in, the roof where she hides?  
Could I be her wildest journey and her safest side?  
Or am I just a whisper in the wind she lets pass?  
A beautiful pause in a story never meant to last.  
  
If only love required no words, no confessions, no plea,  
If only hearts could hear what lips never set free.  
But love, my love, is a tale of what never aligns,  
Of longing without answer, of unsaid yet felt signs.