You asked me, “Do you love me?”
I said, “I do — but not like that.”
Not as a lover,
but as a friend I always care for.

You got quiet.
Took your heart and left our town
to feel nothing at all.

Three years passed.
No calls, just old photos
of what used to be.

I miss the bond we had.
But some stories end
so we can grow on our own.

Don’t take my kindness as a weakness,
or my time as something to waste.
If you keep asking the same questions,
maybe it’s time to walk your own way.

I don’t say “I love you” just to say it —
I show it, in the way I care, in what I do.
Words once meant the world to me,
but too many letdowns taught me to trust action, not promises.

I look back at our photo — two smiles caught mid-laughter, too real to fake, even with life weighing heavy on us.
Back then, we didn’t have much, but we had that — something solid, unspoken.
Now, our smiles in pictures feel like strangers wearing our faces.

And though a part of me wants to stay angry,
there’s still a small corner of my heart
that waits for you to say something — anything — that sounds like the old us.

People keep asking, like they expect me to have all the words.
But why is it only me who has to say what happened? Why not you?
Do you ever stop and wonder
how much it hurts —
not just losing what we were,
but never really knowing why?

In a world where joy and sorrow blend,  
We wear our smiles, though hearts may bend.  
The laughter fades, and shadows creep,  
A heavy burden that we all must keep.

In moments where the heart should soar,  
Instead, we feel a quiet war.  
The joy that once filled up our days,  
Now leaves us lost in a dismal haze.

We reach out, hoping to be heard,  
But find no comfort in a word.  
Alone, we craft a mask of cheer,  
To hide the pain, to mask the fear.

Yet deep within, we all the same,  
Carry wounds that have no name.  
In this silent, shared despair,  
Know that you're not alone out there.

I wish that I was brave enough to said that I can tell you that I like you.