TshewangTandin
A language felt but never Heard
I was the light and you were the star,
I was close but you were far.
I spilled my heart like scattered light,
A constellation bold and bright.
You watched it burn- but stayed afar,
No words to name the thing you are.
Yet in the silence truths still grow:
The brush of sleeves, a glance too slow.
Your hands would speak(though lips stay barred),
A language felt, but never heard.
Oh, love might bloom without a sound,
Yet roots need rain to pierce the ground.
So if your heart hides where you are,
Be my voice- or be my scar.