Quietpain Stories

A gentle yet aching narrative of love that remained unexpressed. Through pauses, glances, and quiet longing, it reflects the sorrow of what could have been-if only it had been seen.

🖤 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 by itsjustAmrit Think of it like pages torn from different days but from the same life. ❝ 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ❞ Broken Pages is a collection carved from silence- 𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥. These aren't love poems. They're post-mortems. Grief sleeps between the lines. Heartbreak drips from metaphors. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴 - "You're not alone in the dark." If you've ever smiled while shattering... If your silence ever screamed... 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. In the ash. In the aftermath. In the poetry only pain can write.

This is personal writing. Not a debate. Not a discussion. Not open to fixing. Read if you want. Leave quietly if you don't.

She smiles like nothing's wrong. When the world falls quiet, she smiles louder. This is a story in fragments-of fake laughs, silent pain, and all the things we hide behind a grin. A short fiction in ten moments. For anyone who ever smiled when they wanted to scream.

Poems about the body when it begins to fail, and the quiet loneliness that follows. A fragile vessel, holding what it can... until it cannot. A vessel of bone and silence, cracking beneath what cannot be seen. Here, the body fades before the soul is ready.

endless... until it's not

Sixteen is not fearless. It's heavy, confusing, and full of feelings with nowhere to go. This poem is about quiet longing, missed timing, and learning to keep going even when your heart feels like background noise.

This is a psychological and autobiographical piece about how suicidal thoughts can form not as a desire for death, but as a desire for rest. Using the metaphor of "leaving work," it explores burnout, endurance, and what happens when survival becomes an ongoing obligation instead of a choice.

Khawala Tahir had always been surrounded by people, by noise, by the weight of expectations-yet somehow, she remained on the outside, as if life had locked her behind a door no one noticed. The love she longed for was never denied outright-just quietly, almost politely, given to others.She was blamed for wounds she didn't cause, punished simply for breathing too softly, for existing too gently.So she learned to live on silence,On the faint echoes of affection left behind for her in the corners. She was never the one their arms reached for, never the name they spoke with pride. But she never wept aloud. She loved without demand, gave without measure, and placed her trembling heart in the hands of the One who never let it fall-her Lord. Her devotion was quiet, unwavering. Her soul so selfless it startled even her own reflection.Yet beneath the layers of resilience, there remained a tender ache- To be seen. To be chosen.To be loved not for her strength, nor for what she could survive-but for the soft, sacred soul she truly was. All she ever wished for was peace- A life that didn't feel like a sentence for being different.

There was no fight. No goodbye. Just a message left unsent... and a silence that never ended. A year later, the chat is still open. Her heart still aches. Where did he go? Why did he stop writing? Maybe the answers were always there - hidden in the last message she never sent.

The lives of those we call family are never ours to fully know. Yet the poet dares to watch, to wonder, to write what might be-the hidden fears, desires, and silences that shape every bond. This is a collection of imagination, intimacy, and the truths that live in shadows. *all the picture credits to their artists and the owners. I took them from pinterest. If you come across one of yours please contact I'll add credits.

We run after the ones who turn away. We ignore the ones who never left. And we mourn the ones who slip through our fingers when we finally notice. What Runs, What Stays, What Leaves is a haunting monologue of love misplaced, of loyalty unseen, and of silence that says too much. Told in lyrical prose, this piece captures the quiet tragedies we live through every day-the people we chase, the souls we overlook, and the regrets we carry once they're gone. If you've ever held on too long... or let go too late... this is for you.

It was just one look. But now he's in my head like a song I can't stop playing. Love on the Brain is a raw, reflective journey through the emotional illusions we build when we feel too much and say too little. It's about overthinking a smile, rewriting a conversation that never happened, and falling for the idea of someone more than the reality. It's about the pain of being invisible, the trap of comparing yourself to "her," and the ache of not knowing why they don't see you the way you see them. Told in journal-style chapters, this book dives into the mental spirals girls experience when feelings don't make sense - and when no one else seems to understand how heavy a crush can really feel. This isn't a story about falling in love. It's about why we fall - even when there's nothing real to land on.

I don't write because I have the answers. I write because I can't stop asking. This is not a story with a plot. This is a collection of thoughts, fears, and quiet battles I face every day. It's for anyone who feels stuck in their head. For the ones who feel too much. For the ones who look at the sky and feel like they're falling without moving. Welcome to my questions, my quiet breakdowns, and the moments I almost understood something before the fear came again. -alnaaze

We met again, but not as we once were. A poetic reflection of what it feels like to see someone from your past-not with longing not with pain, but with a quiet kind of growth. A short piece that captures the bittersweet moment where healing meets memory... and chooses to walk on.

Some stories are loud. This one isn't. It's told in pauses, in conversations that end a little too soon, in words chosen carefully so nothing breaks. Two teenagers grow close in the most ordinary ways-late replies, shared silence, the comfort of being understood without explanation. Nothing is ever said outright. But something is always there. As the chapters pass, moments begin to repeat themselves: the hesitation, the change of subject, the sentence that almost goes somewhere else. And slowly, it becomes clear-this isn't a story about falling in love. It's about everything they never let themselves say. Guys this is just a random story because well I yearn for someone to love me and I'm lonely also I don't know what I'm doing and I'm doing this like at 4 am

I don't have answers - just questions. About love, worth, masks, and why people try so hard. I don't know what this is. It's just what it feels like to be me, which I'm not even sure who "me" is. Maybe this is a part of you too. If you ever felt different in some way but couldn't figure it out, if you ever wondered about the small things or big things. Then maybe you might connect to some part of this.

Micro poetry for those who only recognize the weight of a moment when they're in it. For the candle never lit. For the stage with no audience. For those who only feel the weight of sadness when it finally arrives. These poems live in the moments between thought. an on going project

Love was never part of the plan -but words have a way of changing everything.

🖋 Words bleed 🌓 > These are not poems written to impress. They are pieces of silence, of pain, of moments I never said aloud. Each word is a thought I couldn't explain, each line - a feeling I couldn't hold forever. "Poetries of Soul - Part 1" is my collection of truth. Not perfect. Just real. - A.B.