this book is about a time of my life and how those months changed it in so many ways, just for it to end just as fast. filled with poems, messages and paragraphs, this shows a little peak of all that can happen in a short amount of time; without even meeting them. the boy from november is someone who was in no sense perfect, yet he made me who i am today, even though that november is long gone. he could be seen, in some way, as my first love. he isn't though, yet he made me who i am today. this is, kind of, a diary. of all of the things he made me do. to myself, to others, how he changed me. how i healed, how i suffered and how he did that with just simple things. i won't let on too much of what thing entails, or who he or i am. we are just two people, who 'met' in november, a november that changed my life, and i hope his too. except i know it didn't.
whether you read this to find something relatable to you, to try to figure out the mystery of who i am, or to discover more about how love impacts someone, i hope it changes you.
and now i leave you, and dedicate these next chapters to a boy, something so weak and stupid to say. and yet, although it is not all about him, and more about how he lead me to realise more things, i made it because of him.
xx the girl from november.
The Gallery of Unspoken Words is a collection of poems that captures the quiet ache of admiration from afar-where longing is painted in glances, devotion is sketched in shadows, and love exists in the spaces between words never said.
Each poem is a brushstroke on an invisible canvas, depicting the artist's silent devotion to a muse who may never know they inspire such beauty. Through soft whispers of ink and delicate strokes of verse, this collection explores the tension between distance and desire, the bittersweet nature of unseen admiration, and the art of loving someone in silence.
For those who have ever watched, adored, and created in secret, The Gallery of Unspoken Words is an intimate portrait of longing-where love is an artwork that never quite leaves the easel.