I think there is something almost poetic
about how we began as strangers
who somehow learned each other's silence,
only to end up there again.
Strangers.
But not the same ones we used to be.
There is no "best friends" anymore between us—
only the echo of a name
that no longer fits what we became.
Sometimes I look at you
and wonder
if you ever miss
the versions of ourselves
that existed before everything started falling apart.
Because I do.
I miss speaking without thinking.
I miss laughter that felt effortless.
I miss the safety
of believing you would stay.
And maybe that is the cruelest thing about losing someone—
they do not disappear all at once.
They leave in pieces.
In quieter conversations.
In delayed replies.
In the growing feeling
that you are standing beside someone
who no longer reaches for you the same way.
Until one day
you wake up
and realize
you have become strangers again.
Only now,
you carry the memory
of what it felt like
not to be.
YOU ARE READING
|POEMS| The untold words...
Puisi|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
