#loveunspoken - Hello Poetry

Doubts creep in, whispered by shadows. Love, once warm, grows unsure, burdened by unspoken questions and fear. He tries to keep their story alive, but she is turning away, slowly, silently. She tells him love should be free, like a bird in the sky. He listens, but cannot understand. Then comes the moment—when she leaves, when he watches, unable to grieve properly, unable to let go. A single sentence, unfinished, lingers in the air: "Some stories aren’t meant to be told to the end."

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Feb 25, 2025

Feb 25, 2025 at 2:59 AM UTC

Kuch_baatein_khud_se

Post 3: "Hesitation – The Breaking" (Doubts, Distance)

Doubts creep in, whispered by shadows. Love, once warm, grows unsure, burdened by unspoken questions and fear. He tries to keep their story alive, but she is turning away, slowly, silently. She tells him love should be free, like a bird in the sky. He listens, but cannot understand. Then comes the moment—when she leaves, when he watches, unable to grieve properly, unable to let go. A single sentence, unfinished, lingers in the air: "Some stories aren’t meant to be told to the end."

5

What could have been? It’s something that crosses my mind every once in a while, And no matter how hard I try not to, I always end up thinking about it. Would it have worked if I walked up to him? If I had complimented his pretty smile and beautiful poetry? If I had stared a little longer than just a glance, would he have noticed me? Would me just being blunt, and confessing to him get me the reciprocation I wanted? Would that have gained me the pretty boy with personality, that now haunts me like a ghost in campus hallways? What could have been? If I followed through with my plans to get him, Would I currently be calling him? Would we be exchanging good morning texts and poems if I had listened and just talked to him? What could’ve been? If I had wished him more than good luck, would I be wishing him a safe return when he leaves? Would I be sharing with him my deepest of thoughts, and all the love I put into my poetry? If I was honest would our story be one for the books? If I played my cards right, would he have been mine? What could have been? It’s something I can’t help but think about. The thought lingers around my mind the same way he lingers around my heart What could have been?

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Oct 17, 2024

Oct 17, 2024 at 9:59 PM UTC

EllesPoetryCorner

What Could’ve Been?

What could have been? It’s something that crosses my mind every once in a while, And no matter how hard I try not to, I always end up thinking about it. Would it have worked if I walked up to him? If I had complimented his pretty smile and beautiful poetry? If I had stared a little longer than just a glance, would he have noticed me? Would me just being blunt, and confessing to him get me the reciprocation I wanted? Would that have gained me the pretty boy with personality, that now haunts me like a ghost in campus hallways? What could have been? If I followed through with my plans to get him, Would I currently be calling him? Would we be exchanging good morning texts and poems if I had listened and just talked to him? What could’ve been? If I had wished him more than good luck, would I be wishing him a safe return when he leaves? Would I be sharing with him my deepest of thoughts, and all the love I put into my poetry? If I was honest would our story be one for the books? If I played my cards right, would he have been mine? What could have been? It’s something I can’t help but think about. The thought lingers around my mind the same way he lingers around my heart What could have been?

23

In the back of my mind, where my soul sings its own heart, there’s a small door I keep closed, that’s begging for light. The hinges creak louder and louder, each day and each night. There’s something I carry, something tucked away from their eyes. It sings such sweet melodies, and shines just so bright. It creeps softly through the groves of my chest, caressing my body, tracing the edges of the things I’ve suppressed. I think I’m afraid to claim it. Frozen in the noise, caught between the world and the shape of my own voice. I hope I can face it. Brave through it all. It lingers on my tongue every time that I call.

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Apr 7

Apr 7, 2026 at 6:16 PM UTC

cyn-liss

what creeps softly

In the back of my mind, where my soul sings its own heart, there’s a small door I keep closed, that’s begging for light. The hinges creak louder and louder, each day and each night. There’s something I carry, something tucked away from their eyes. It sings such sweet melodies, and shines just so bright. It creeps softly through the groves of my chest, caressing my body, tracing the edges of the things I’ve suppressed. I think I’m afraid to claim it. Frozen in the noise, caught between the world and the shape of my own voice. I hope I can face it. Brave through it all. It lingers on my tongue every time that I call.

21