Left Unsaid:

I held the words behind my teeth, the ones you never asked me for. I stitched my silence into comfort, while your absence grew into a war. I watched you fade without a sound, like smoke dissolving in the rain. A thousand chances died in waiting— a quiet symphony of pain. You spoke in half-built promises, in glances lost to distant skies. And still, I stayed, half-hope, half-fool, learning love through practiced lies. The things I felt, I carved in bone, but never dared to let them fly. You left, and all that could've been just lingered there, too scared to die. Now every night repeats your name in rooms you never called a home. And I rehearse the things I’d say— if ghosts could answer phones. But heartbreak isn’t loud or sharp, it's soft, it's slow, it drips like rain. It’s living days you won’t return and learning how to breathe through pain. So I’ll keep quiet—let it burn, this tender grief, this love misread. Not all goodbyes are loud or clear— some simply stay and stay instead.