She, the Unwritten Poem
I got attached to you so easily,
like the sky clings to the fading light,
like the ocean whispers to the shore,
drawn to you without a fight.
Attracted in ways I can’t explain,
you are the first breath of my day,
the last thought before I close my eyes,
the dream that never fades away.
I care for you more than you realize,
appreciate you more than you will know.
For some love is loud, but mine—
mine is a quiet glow.
She asked, “Are we in a relationship?”
He smiled, “What do you think? And why does it matter?”
She sighed, “Because I like your company.”
He looked away, “Maybe you like my soul,
but not the togetherness we share.”
She stayed silent, searching his words.
"Sometimes, we mistake deep connections for love," he said.
"Maybe what we have isn’t meant to be named, just felt."
She didn't argue, for some emotions
are too fragile to define.
Not every bond needs a label.
Some souls just recognize each other in silence.
I looked at her one last time…
as I decided to end this story.
"People say right person at the wrong time,
wrong person at the right time.
But she was my best person at the best time,
and I wasn’t hers."
And that made all the difference.
Perhaps love isn’t about timing,
nor about fate aligning perfectly.
Maybe it’s about meeting someone
who leaves an imprint on your soul—
whether you walk together or apart.
She was the right one,
but love isn't always about keeping.
Sometimes, it's about letting go
before the weight of unspoken words
becomes heavier than the love itself.
How lucky are those who stand beside you,
who see you laugh, who hold your hand.
Who get to love you in ways I never could,
who have what I only understand.
"I wish I were one of your tears,"
to be born in your eyes,
to run down your cheek,
and die upon your lips—
to know your warmth before I fade.
You are beautiful beyond words,
a story no poet can write,
a melody no song can capture,
a moment too perfect for time.
If only I could be the air you breathe,
the thought that lingers in your mind,
if only I could exist where you exist,
just long enough to call you mine.
But love, real love, isn’t about owning—
it’s about witnessing, about feeling.
It’s about knowing that even if you aren’t mine,
the universe was kind enough to let me love you.
Some stories remain unfinished,
some hearts remain unsaid,
but some souls—oh, some souls—
they recognize each other,
beyond words, beyond names.
And maybe,
that is where forever truly exists
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