that healing isnât loudâ
itâs in the quiet moments
we stop looking back.
It shows us who stays,
who fades,
and what was never ours to hold.
It doesnât erase the ache,
but it softens the edgesâ
reminding us that even
pain can become part
of the poetry.-
that healing isnât loudâ
itâs in the quiet moments
we stop looking back.
It shows us who stays,
who fades,
and what was never ours to hold.
It doesnât erase the ache,
but it softens the edgesâ
reminding us that even
pain can become part
of the poetry.-
finding the light still on
in a room I thought Iâd
never enter again.
Itâs familiar warmth after
cold distance,
a breath I didnât know
I was holding.
Not everything broken
stays shatteredâ
some love waits quietly,
just to be felt again.-
when our day-to-day habits
slowly turned into a conversationâ
your âgood morningâ felt warmer,
my silence felt understood.
It wasnât grand,
wasnât suddenâ
just two lives softly folding into
each other,
until comfort began to sound
a lot like your name.-
what I would choose againâ
even after the heartbreak,
even after the silence.
And without a pause,
my heart whispered your name.
Because some choices
arenât about logic or easeâ
theyâre about love
that felt like home,
even when it hurt.-
Iâll hold you a little longerâ
not to stop time,
but to memorize the way it feels
when everything is right,
even if just for a heartbeat.
Because some moments
arenât meant to lastâ
theyâre meant to be
felt completely.-
I tease you with typos
just to make you stay
long enough to correct me.-
I whisper your name
into tea steam and pillow fog,
as if distance melts with breath.-
I reread our old chats,
as if punctuation might change
and say something new.-
I wear colors you once liked,
not because I forgot myself,
but because I remember you.-