#unspokenemotions - Hello Poetry

In the silence where you once breathed, I wait, As shadows of you haunt every quiet place. The sun, it rises, but feels too late, And my heart, like a shattered glass, loses grace. The threads of laughter we spun with care Now unravel into tears, slow and raw. Your whispered promises linger in the air, But they crumble like leaves in autumn's maw. How can I hold you in memories alone, When each thought of you is a knife, a thorn? In the ruins of us, I stand alone, A broken soul, a heart worn and torn. If I could keep you, just one last embrace, Maybe this sorrow would dare to part. But now all I have is this hollow space, Where you once lived—deep in my heart.

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Oct 30, 2024

Oct 30, 2024 at 1:09 PM UTC

arenelvan

The Echoes of Our Heartbreak

In the silence where you once breathed, I wait, As shadows of you haunt every quiet place. The sun, it rises, but feels too late, And my heart, like a shattered glass, loses grace. The threads of laughter we spun with care Now unravel into tears, slow and raw. Your whispered promises linger in the air, But they crumble like leaves in autumn's maw. How can I hold you in memories alone, When each thought of you is a knife, a thorn? In the ruins of us, I stand alone, A broken soul, a heart worn and torn. If I could keep you, just one last embrace, Maybe this sorrow would dare to part. But now all I have is this hollow space, Where you once lived—deep in my heart.

16

The most misunderstood, misfelt, and underrated feeling. Water flowing from eyes can never be fake. It could be from happiness, Can be with grief, Can be out of jealous, And can be through overwhelm. The reason may be anything, But they can never be fake. They hold valuable expressions Which words in dictionary too fail. They carry the pain, Unexpressed emotions, And more. Tears are misunderstood For being weak, sensitive, and over-emotional. But they are not in true sense. One can never judge the value of tears. They make heavy hearts lighter. Hidden suffers heal. They make expressions visible. Make the situation intact. Never look low of tears, And the one who lets them flow freely, Than to submerged them fearing judgements.

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Jul 7, 2025

Jul 7, 2025 at 7:25 AM UTC

Arna_writes

The Most Underrated Emotion: Tears

The most misunderstood, misfelt, and underrated feeling. Water flowing from eyes can never be fake. It could be from happiness, Can be with grief, Can be out of jealous, And can be through overwhelm. The reason may be anything, But they can never be fake. They hold valuable expressions Which words in dictionary too fail. They carry the pain, Unexpressed emotions, And more. Tears are misunderstood For being weak, sensitive, and over-emotional. But they are not in true sense. One can never judge the value of tears. They make heavy hearts lighter. Hidden suffers heal. They make expressions visible. Make the situation intact. Never look low of tears, And the one who lets them flow freely, Than to submerged them fearing judgements.

24

They aren’t only them anymore— they’re a place I return to without moving. A corridor of childhood laughter, where my steps were lighter, where someone’s presence felt like a small festival in my chest. I remember how I used to wait— not with patience, but with spark. Not for words, not for promises, just to see them and feel… enough. And maybe that’s what stayed. Not their voice, not their face as it is today— but the way I existed when they were around. Soft. Seen. Safe in a way I didn’t have to question. So I keep searching for them in every new face— but they arrive as strangers, while they… still feel like home. And now I understand— I’m not holding onto them, I’m holding onto a version of me that once knew how to shine without trying.

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Mar 20

Mar 20, 2026 at 10:55 AM UTC

NomaInfine

Not Just Them

They aren’t only them anymore— they’re a place I return to without moving. A corridor of childhood laughter, where my steps were lighter, where someone’s presence felt like a small festival in my chest. I remember how I used to wait— not with patience, but with spark. Not for words, not for promises, just to see them and feel… enough. And maybe that’s what stayed. Not their voice, not their face as it is today— but the way I existed when they were around. Soft. Seen. Safe in a way I didn’t have to question. So I keep searching for them in every new face— but they arrive as strangers, while they… still feel like home. And now I understand— I’m not holding onto them, I’m holding onto a version of me that once knew how to shine without trying.

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