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I look back at our photo — two smiles caught mid-laughter, too real to fake, even with life weighing heavy on us.
Back then, we didn’t have much, but we had that — something solid, unspoken.
Now, our smiles in pictures feel like strangers wearing our faces.

And though a part of me wants to stay angry,
there’s still a small corner of my heart
that waits for you to say something — anything — that sounds like the old us.

People keep asking, like they expect me to have all the words.
But why is it only me who has to say what happened? Why not you?
Do you ever stop and wonder
how much it hurts —
not just losing what we were,
but never really knowing why?
#UnspokenWords #LostConnection #EchoesOfUs
anuj 5d
I was alive — when I look back.
I can preserve it, but I can’t get it back.
I want to shine, but I’m not a pearl.
I want to cry, but I’m not a girl.

This society says: “Be happy, be composed,”
But never lets us feel free and exposed.
I wore a mask I wasn’t allowed to take off.
I’m a boy in a world that calls me free —
But I’ve forgotten what free even means to me.
Please reacts readers
Moments of love feel almost medical—
but my patience for it is cold, clinical.
I never meant to overdose, just chasing
comfort in a heavy dose of someone new,
to help me cope.

I try to build a house from broken pieces—
too many to count. I am the empty echo
of a heart still full, but far too loud
to be heard.

Echo...
  Echoes

     fall between the silence of our words,
two awkward breaths apart—trying
to keep it innocent, just as friends,
while our primal skins just want to skip
to the part of just having ***.

It’s the risk of falling in love—
that makes us stumble near the edge.
It’s beautiful. It’s ******* stupid.
It hurts. It’s love.
Whether it finds you first, as the one
you need— or shows up last, as the one
you never really wanted.
ash Jun 6
i remember
a memory —
it isn't mine.
someone else's.

being the kid we used to be
(yes, i'm writing it in their pov)
we drank lemonade under the summer sun,
watched the bulb in the sky brighten,
heard the promises of forever
where no voice resonated.

echoes of my woes
learned to yearn within these walls.

it's a contrast: sweet, distant, aching.
have you ever heard of feeling nothing —
like the silence after chaos,
a void so deep,
there seems to be nothing it's composed of at all?
an absence that has screamed louder since its presence.

i listen to skyfall as i write,
and no, the sky hasn't fallen —
but it seems it would have felt better if it did.
a way to express what i feel deep inside,
since the breaking.

there are regrets.
like a flower blooms under the sun,
my regret bloomed under the skin of love,
whispered between lines,
composed of all the maybes it could have been —
the ideas, the fantasies,
versions of you that never came to just be.

perhaps i'd dreamt different —
not of someone,
but of how things seemed to me.

but it's nighttime, and i sit,
and like a building collapsing, i think —
stars falling, heavens opening, illusions crashing,
my heart strengthening.
it rubs painfully against the chest — or so.
i wish it hurt just a little bit more,
for i feel it tends to lack intensity.

how you simply waved a goodbye —
i felt it like waves in the sea.
yours was late, brief —
mine drowned, delivered me to the ending.

i have my window open.
i'll try to describe the night sky.
it still seems impossible,
like it did that night.

the stars — they watched me silently.
maybe they witnessed the fall as well.
and then i wondered —
did i even know it all that well?

maybe they were the lovers who never made it home.
maybe they were the parallels to what was meant to be alone.
i kinda hoped it'd be one way —
either you'd become a star, or me, or us together.
and whoever remained would have watched it
as we grew old together.

alas, what remains of it now?
the memories, the hauntings —
are they simply the nothings in between the heavier things?

wave after wave,
they take me with them,
bring me back
to where i began.

we were kids once,
with lemonade hearts —
not the sugary kind,
but the one filled with zest and a spark.

the sky remembers all that i've forgotten.
the same track on repeat —
i wish i'd heard it the night that brought me to hit rock bottom.

i want to write and write and write
and let it devour you and me
and all the eyes that ponder over these words whole.

for that nothing
felt like everything for a moment.

and i can't believe
you missed out
on becoming the lovers —
the ones i dreamt for us to be.



that was indeed just the end, then.

like the sounds of tires on gravel
when the track twists just right —
hold—wait—stop—
i need to catch up to my memories.
but what of all the ones you left with?
bled into them: the last gaze, the lasting wounds.
oh, look — it crumbled.

had you promised to stay
and followed it through,
i'd have torn the sky apart
with bare hands,
set ablaze all those who came in our path.
but alas, easy way out —
i saw nothing (that was enough then),
never saw beyond you
(but now i see all of you).

and i shall wash away,
off the shore, at the edge of the boat.
i shall let go and watch.
you've slipped from my hands
like dust in between fingers.
the sandglass broke,
so did the beats at which my heart spoke.
i wish you the best.
i shall hope you find rest
in places that aren't filled with me.

it's a closure,
it's my closure —
turns out,
that's all i've ever seeked.
got the words, made the prompt, wrote something- i think i entered a different head.
There’s a parachute stitched into my eyes— soft silk holding
nothing, as I watch myself freefalling into an empty space
The ringing words of love still call, like fading prayers –
as the voices of lovers trying to reconnect.

But I never was good at playing my heart. But aren’t you
expecting me to stay in character? To wear the lines you
wrote for me, in the means of keeping up this fantasy of love.
My smiles are scripted; as everyone else is helping to create
such a picture frame. The world helps paint our picture from
all the wildest of conversations; but the more they run out of
your mouth, the more they seem to taste so tame.

These tired eyes have searched in your eyes for a reflection
I can truly bend– so is the baggage claim of my baggy eyes;
visioning our broken pieces coming together to hopefully
mend.

I was your background character, your silent NPC in a game
you never knew I played, the first time. But when I stopped
watching, when I stopped turning toward you with secret
obsession – you started to feel the crush of my own crush.
Now you chase the echo of something that once held you
true—that hidden crush, that tender view, searching. But love,
my dear, truly YOU, should see how love is so **** blind.
Arna May 20
Sometimes, we can’t do anything but to just
sit and miss them.
Sometimes, it’s better to
just hide all your emotions in your tiny heart.
Sometimes, opting for silence
is the best option in all situations.
Sometimes, a comforting embrace
is enough to heal you when sympathetic words doesn’t.
Sometimes, all you crave for is a hand on your shoulder
or a shoulder to lie
or a person to hear you and comfort you
when you feel low
than having the whole family to console you.
Not every pain needs words.
Not every tear needs an audience.
Sometimes, silence understands more than sympathy.
Sometimes, all the heart asks for is a quiet presence —
a touch, a glance, a gentle reminder that we’re not alone.
And in those tender moments, healing begins.
"Sometimes, silence is the loudest cry for comfort."
JAMIL HUSSAIN May 10
Your lips, they speak in whispers sweet,
A language only hearts can greet.
In every kiss, a universe,
A silent verse, a lover’s curse.
The Kiss of a Thousand Words 10/05/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Sreeyaa May 10
Eyelids fluttering closed, I see those eyes,
Swirls of hazel that still thaw my heart,
Maybe I should've known from the start,
now I'm paying the price, tearing me apart

I let him in, a little too fast,
held on to him a little too tight,
thought I'd survive the blast,
that I'd rise, not fall in the fight

It's been a whole year since,
the scars remain fresh still,
maybe one day I'll feel the thrill,
when my heart puts together it's flints
Shawn Oen Apr 21
Locked Rooms

You lie beside me every night,
But dream alone, beyond my sight.
Your eyes drift off to places deep,
While I stay waking in the sleep.

You speak of work, of plans, the day,
But never what you’ve throw away.
Not what you long for, fear, or miss—
Just surface talk, no hidden wish.

I ask, you nod, then change the thread,
As if your dreams were something dead.
A vault you never want to share,
A soul too tangled to lay bare.

I don’t need answers tied in bows,
Or every thought you’ve ever known.
I just want in—just one small key—
To feel your fire burning free.

But walls are what you offer back,
And silence fills the growing crack.
How strange to love, and still not know
The places that your heart won’t go.

I can’t hold dreams you never speak,
Or heal the parts you will not seek.
I’m not a ghost, I’m not a guess—
I’m here, but aching nonetheless.

So tell me where your stars are set,
What haunts your nights with quiet debt.
I want to love you, fully true—
But I can’t reach the locked-up you.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
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