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#witnesstopain
I watched from afar, my heart heavy with guilt, The boy, standing cold, as her tears gently built. She stood before him, fragile and small, And whispered, "I’m sorry," though it wasn’t her fall. Her eyes, still tender, though broken inside, Offered an apology she had no need to provide. She bowed her head, as if to confess, For the heartbreak he caused, in all of its mess. He stood unmoved, oblivious, blind, To the storm he had left, to the damage he’d signed. Yet there she was, with no fault to bear, Offering sorrow, as if life were fair. She spoke of mistakes, of things left unsaid, While the boy, in his silence, let the guilt spread. It wasn’t her fault—no, it never was, But there she stood, broken because— She thought the fault was hers to own, That somehow, she’d left him alone. But I saw the truth, though they didn’t— He was the one who should have been repentant. Her apology was like a fragile plea, For love he had shattered, carelessly. Yet, she still bowed, still bore the weight, While he, untouched, sealed her fate. I stood as a witness, aching inside, For a girl who deserved so much more than to hide. Her apology was a gift undeserved, From a heart broken, yet still preserved.
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Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 8:14 AM UTC
Kuch_baatein_khud_se
The Apology Unwarranted
I watched from afar, my heart heavy with guilt, The boy, standing cold, as her tears gently built. She stood before him, fragile and small, And whispered, "I’m sorry," though it wasn’t her fall. Her eyes, still tender, though broken inside, Offered an apology she had no need to provide. She bowed her head, as if to confess, For the heartbreak he caused, in all of its mess. He stood unmoved, oblivious, blind, To the storm he had left, to the damage he’d signed. Yet there she was, with no fault to bear, Offering sorrow, as if life were fair. She spoke of mistakes, of things left unsaid, While the boy, in his silence, let the guilt spread. It wasn’t her fault—no, it never was, But there she stood, broken because— She thought the fault was hers to own, That somehow, she’d left him alone. But I saw the truth, though they didn’t— He was the one who should have been repentant. Her apology was like a fragile plea, For love he had shattered, carelessly. Yet, she still bowed, still bore the weight, While he, untouched, sealed her fate. I stood as a witness, aching inside, For a girl who deserved so much more than to hide. Her apology was a gift undeserved, From a heart broken, yet still preserved.
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__I. Fracture__ (_The Splintering_) Divorce in my eyes— not just of lovers, but of trust split cleanly in two. It’s a quiet betrayal, where belief in others fractures like glass in morning frost. The break isn't loud— It’s slow, and it lingers like silence in a room that once held laughter. ________________________________________ __II. Hope__ (_The Gaze Upward_) Still, beneath the applause of stars, I offer my belief in myself— a trembling gift to their gleaming, ancient eyes. May my resilience Be a constellation they name, not out of pity, but awe. I crave mesmerizing remarks, spoken with love—not just spoken of love— if only they knew how to spell the word without misspelling it in action. ________________________________________ __III. Dust__ (_The Reckoning_) Like mystic dust on the untouched virtues of time, I’ve seen dreams— soiled, scattered, folded into the pockets of regret. Not just mine. Many. The world has walked through the fields of hope with muddy boots. And now, in my dirt eyes, I carry the stains— not of sin, but of seeing too much and still refusing to look away.
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Jun 2, 2025
Jun 2, 2025 at 2:36 PM UTC
OddOdysseyPoet
The Eyes That Stayed Open
__I. Fracture__ (_The Splintering_) Divorce in my eyes— not just of lovers, but of trust split cleanly in two. It’s a quiet betrayal, where belief in others fractures like glass in morning frost. The break isn't loud— It’s slow, and it lingers like silence in a room that once held laughter. ________________________________________ __II. Hope__ (_The Gaze Upward_) Still, beneath the applause of stars, I offer my belief in myself— a trembling gift to their gleaming, ancient eyes. May my resilience Be a constellation they name, not out of pity, but awe. I crave mesmerizing remarks, spoken with love—not just spoken of love— if only they knew how to spell the word without misspelling it in action. ________________________________________ __III. Dust__ (_The Reckoning_) Like mystic dust on the untouched virtues of time, I’ve seen dreams— soiled, scattered, folded into the pockets of regret. Not just mine. Many. The world has walked through the fields of hope with muddy boots. And now, in my dirt eyes, I carry the stains— not of sin, but of seeing too much and still refusing to look away.
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