#revive - Hello Poetry

She was eighteen– all sunlight and soft belief, and love arrived too early, wearing a face nine years older. She carried her heart in open hands, offering it again and again, only to be told she was too young to be taken seriously, too young to be chosen. But her dreams were not childish– they were tender, human things: a kiss, a home, a future whispered in his name. Then one day, without warning, he built that future with someone else. And she mourned like something had died that no one knew was alive. Years passed, but memory has a cruel way of breathing long after hope stops. He returned– with children in his arms and emptiness in his voice, asking her to fill spaces never meant for her. And because love had lived in her longer than pride ever could, she said yes to being almost chosen. She learned the warmth of his embrace, the softness of a first kiss, the ache of knowing it did not mean the same to him. Jealousy grew quietly– not loud, not wild– but like a vine around her ribs each time he spoke of his wife. She knew, somewhere beneath the longing, that she was a place he visited when loneliness knocked at his door. So she stepped away, leaving with a heart that felt both empty and still unbearably full. She tried to forget him in the arms of a stranger, married a life her soul could not recognize. And in quiet nights, when the world slept, she would wonder why love refused to move on just because time did. Why does the heart stay loyal to a dream long after the dream has forgotten you? He drifts in and out of her life still– a familiar ghost, stirring old feelings with careless words. And she remains, not foolish, not mad– just a woman who loved deeply once, and never learned how to love that way again. Where do you place a love that was never allowed to live, never allowed to die? Perhaps it stays here– in the quiet spaces of her chest, where dreams go to wait, and never quite leave. ♡ lil-usagi

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Mar 26

Mar 26, 2026 at 7:51 AM UTC

lil-usagi

Undying Remains

She was eighteen– all sunlight and soft belief, and love arrived too early, wearing a face nine years older. She carried her heart in open hands, offering it again and again, only to be told she was too young to be taken seriously, too young to be chosen. But her dreams were not childish– they were tender, human things: a kiss, a home, a future whispered in his name. Then one day, without warning, he built that future with someone else. And she mourned like something had died that no one knew was alive. Years passed, but memory has a cruel way of breathing long after hope stops. He returned– with children in his arms and emptiness in his voice, asking her to fill spaces never meant for her. And because love had lived in her longer than pride ever could, she said yes to being almost chosen. She learned the warmth of his embrace, the softness of a first kiss, the ache of knowing it did not mean the same to him. Jealousy grew quietly– not loud, not wild– but like a vine around her ribs each time he spoke of his wife. She knew, somewhere beneath the longing, that she was a place he visited when loneliness knocked at his door. So she stepped away, leaving with a heart that felt both empty and still unbearably full. She tried to forget him in the arms of a stranger, married a life her soul could not recognize. And in quiet nights, when the world slept, she would wonder why love refused to move on just because time did. Why does the heart stay loyal to a dream long after the dream has forgotten you? He drifts in and out of her life still– a familiar ghost, stirring old feelings with careless words. And she remains, not foolish, not mad– just a woman who loved deeply once, and never learned how to love that way again. Where do you place a love that was never allowed to live, never allowed to die? Perhaps it stays here– in the quiet spaces of her chest, where dreams go to wait, and never quite leave. ♡ lil-usagi