You looked through me,  
like there was something you saw,  
just ours, something alive in the spaces between.  
A soft spark, a language in glances,  
the way your smile felt like a hand to hold.

But now it's silence, sharp and sure.  
Days pass, but there's nothing from you  
just the cold weight of words unsaid.  
Not a call, not a trace, not a flicker,  
like you vanished with all that warmth.

Did I misread it all?  
Was it a story I made alone?  
Or did you simply forget  
to hold onto something small and real?  
Here I am, still feeling you there,  
a quiet that only I hear.

When we stood close, it felt like something  
a spark drawn out between shared laughs,  
a touch too slow to let go.  
I saw the way his gaze held,  
like a quiet promise,  
hanging warm in the air, waiting.

But now he’s vanished from my days,  
a light turned off without a word.  
No messages, no calls,  
just a silence thick with everything  
he left behind,  
a ghost where the warmth had been.

Was it real?  
Or did I dream us into life?  
Maybe he was only ever passing through.  
But here I am, holding the memory close,  
hoping that one day, maybe,  
he remembers to look back, too.

To be loved by a poet  
is to know they see your scars
the parts of you that remain hidden,  
yet still, they choose to stay.

To love  
is to give your heart fully,  
knowing it will break  
and still hoping it will heal.

To cry  
is to drown in the ache,  
caught in the loop of love and loss,  
where tears never truly end.

To go  
is to carry the pain,  
leaving behind what can’t remain,  
but always feeling it in the silence.

To live  
is to rise,  
only to fall again,  
trapped in the cycle of wanting  
what you can’t have.

And to love again  
is to open your heart,  
raw and unguarded,  
because love
it pulls you back  
every time.

I fell for your charms,  
for the way you spoke without words,  
for the way your presence lingered  
long after you'd left the room.  
You can resist beauty,  
but never charms like yours.

In your eyes,  
I saw something I wish I hadn’t  
a fire, a hunger,  
a desire that pulled me deeper,  
and now, I crave what I can't have.

The love I feel now  
it’s all that remains,  
but you're no longer here.  
You left, without a trace,  
and I'm left with only the memory of your warmth.

I wait.  
I wait for you to come back,  
for you to realize that I love you  
the way I’ve always loved you  
quietly, steadily,  
like a song you don’t hear  
but can never forget.

I’m ready to love you again,  
but if you are not,  
I’ll wait, just as I’ve waited  
for three long years  
for you to return.  
Because no matter how long it takes,  
I’ll wait for you  
for as long as I need to.

When he was here, it felt like something real  
the way his eyes lingered,  
the unspoken words we wore like secrets,  
a laugh, a look, a touch just long enough  
to make me think I was seen.

But now he’s faded, a ghost of what he seemed,  
a light snuffed out, no explanation,  
just an empty space where his warmth used to be.  
No calls, no signs, no trace he remembers,  
only the ache of what he left behind.

Did I imagine it?  
Was he only passing through?  
Or did he mean it, too once?  
I hold the memory close,  
a spark I can’t let go,  
listening to the silence he left like an echo.

Life is ******, it’s truly a mess,  
I mean you’d have to be twisted to love right?
You’re caught in a game that never ends.  
its a cycle almost clinical

Love is a gamble, its either you win or you lose,  
There’s no in-between, just choices to choose.  
And if there were, you weren’t really playing,  
Just drifting along, while the real hearts are swaying.  

As a teen, you’re vulnerable, naive,  
Chasing a dream that’s hard to believe.  
Love can be beautiful, yet it cuts like a knife,  
It’s a dangerous dance, full of chaos

Dive in too deep, and you’ll feel the sting,  
Love is nothing but lies, wrapped in a ring.  
It pulls you in close, then pushes away,  
A truth in the games that we play.

You looked through me,  
and in that moment, nothing else mattered.  
You stood there, looking,  
as if there was something only you could see,  
something hidden even from me.

The way you smiled, the way I laughed  
it felt like a story we shared,  
like a hand reaching out in the dark.  
I thought maybe, just maybe,  
there was something there.

But now, only silence answers,  
days pass, and there’s nothing from you.  
Did I really feel something that night,  
or was it just the need to believe,  
to hold onto the warmth of your arms,  
to imagine your eyes told a story  
that was only ever mine?