She couldn't write a poem about love.
Not because she couldn't feel it,
but because she had never known
what it felt like to have it stay.
She saw it everywhere.
In the way strangers softened around each other,
in hands reaching instinctively for warmth,
in the quiet certainty
some people inspired without even trying.
And still, none of it ever found her.
How could she describe something
that had only ever brushed past her fingertips?
How could a heart survive untouched for so long
without beginning to believe
it was made wrong?
Was her life meant to be loveless?
Sometimes she wondered
if love was simply a language
her soul had never learned how to speak.
Or worse—
if it had been speaking all along,
and no one had cared enough to listen.
YOU ARE READING
|POEMS| The untold words...
Poetry|I never told you And you will never know The secrets the stars whispered to me That night under the moon| Cover credits to: @LeroyGraphics
