#Things left Unsaid

[nongiftedpoet]

How does a poet become… a poet?

And what makes a poem… a poem?

- nongiftedpoet

[dumblr]

I hope that someday someone looks into my eyes, and finally sees the universe inside.

[sileniadream]

"He told me about himself somehow, his failures and his hopes, the people he swore to protect but ultimately left behind. Five years went by, and I learned his pain. He waited for the hero who would save the day, not knowing he was somehow mine. There was someone he often speak of, a hero who saved his life, but who he hurted. I remember how he said he never had any regrets, but I knew he lied, because that day he became very silent. If he could be given this chance, one day, I hope he could mend things with this person, and tell them how he feels..."

[headstro]

[spiritualgangstrb4be]

If you feel nothing then why are you shaking

[six-white-venus]

“Tell me something about yourself.”

i) i couldn't pick up a phone call without trembling for two years. seeing my loved ones take a call felt like someone was squeezing my heart in their fist. dread tastes like bile and something terribly bitter. it steals your breath and weaves with it a tapestry of your darkest fears.

i used to pick up a call and all i could think was,

“who died this time?”

ii) i have a pseudo-degree in hindi but still can't speak the language. it should fill me with shame, maybe. i don't particularly care; i’ve never liked it much. my teacher would be disappointed. but not upset. never upset when it came to me. she used to say i was her smartest student. i will deny the statement till i die. i used to laugh when she sang along to old movie songs and drank coffee from her bafflingly huge cup. i look at her handwriting on my notebook now, the flowy, graceful scrawl of her letters and talk to the sky,

“i'm sorry i didn't come to your funeral.”

i like to think she isn't upset.

iii) i've only liked someone once. maybe that isn't the right word for it. i’ve only loved someone once.

no, that isn't right, either. i've loved all my lives and held on to every stranger that crosses me with the awed reverence of a devotee. i’ve loved people that i'll never see again and ones that i hope to see every day of my miserable, beautiful life. i love so easily. i love so terribly.

what i mean to say is: i've only once ripped my heart out of my chest and set it on fire just because my beloved asked. maybe love isn't supposed to hurt so much. maybe i'm doing it all wrong. but i loved him. i don't know what else to call it.

iv) i keep chasing ghosts. it's all i do. sometimes, it makes me think that maybe, i'm the one haunting them.

i still check if my pencil is sharp enough by poking it on my cheek, just like my teacher used to (hindi, unwavering confidence, adoration, a mug of coffee. i’ve never seen bravery look so beautiful). the songs that kept me alive were the ones recommended to me by the boy who broke my heart (crooked smiles, green sandals, valorant, the word no. he knew my number like the back of his hand, the way i thought i knew him). i still have a letter i wrote to the girl whose love i threw away without a second glance. (books, glasses and whispered secrets. the apology rots under my desk drawer and smells like shame). i have the flowers that grew in my late grandpa’s house (pink, white, laughter, death) and a page from my uncle’s messy notes (can you hear it? can you hear my scream, my pride, my misery whenever i say ‘i’m going to be a doctor’? can you hear the name of a dead man sitting on my tongue, bleeding, bleeding, always bleeding? can you?) and a stolen polaroid (frozen happiness. sterile and pretty and traceable. it makes me want to rip out my throat) pressed between the pages of my notebook. i look in the mirror and watch them all be helplessly chained down to me. i tell them,

“i can never let you go. i’m sorry that i'm not sorry.”

v) all my life, i’ve run away from my problems. i’m so, so afraid. it scares me, the possibility that this is who i always will be. i run and i sit still, frozen in fear. i don't know what to do. i’m a coward; that's all i've always been.

“I hate cucumbers.”

[lostmf]

I was six when you left

And I have been six ever since ..

[merthecure]

i want us to dance on rock with you by Michael Jackson all night

[pluviophile-who-likes-coffee]

Don't leave things unsaid. Even if you're scared as hell to say them.

Whispers of You by Catherine Cowles

[nongiftedpoet]

“What is home?”

It’s a place surrounded with books annotated with emotions, aged papers with messy handwritings, piano hugged by vines, sounds of ticking old clock filling the air, soothing smell of scented candles, magical library with books roaming around, a lake in front of the house accompanied by a kitten, near a garden filled with white flowers on the hillside, and with you by my side.

- nongiftedpoet

[dumblr]

Life would be so much easier if we just told people how we felt. There's nothing wrong with telling someone that you love them, or that it hurts your feelings when they do something, or that you miss them. But we are all just too scared to let people know how we actually feel.

[mooneclaire]

i didn’t regret choosing myself the moment i knew i had to decide between continue loving you or completely losing it, but choosing myself had never felt this selfish i ought to lose different versions of you all at once. i’ve been convincing myself that the way i ended things could’ve been gentler, yet since when is a breakup i dreaded the most gentle? i loved you in ways i’d never do again, ways that made me involuntarily grieve and mourn for remembering you.

they said that love is a choice and is always about choosing the person every day. but by choosing him every day, a piece of me loses until i'm nothing but an anguished, bitter little girl asking why life is nothing but unfair when things don't go her way no matter what good she does.

[crmsnmth]

Just in Passing

Did she ever mention me? Just happy she was with you and not me? Did she say those words and then come home to me? Hearts on her sleeve and Magic cards on the floor of her truck It hurt even more as she insulted my intelligence

Was I ever brought up? The used to be boy she broke The boy she drove to insanity Or was I more of a scream in a hurricane? Did my presence ever really mean anything? Just enough that I can feel a little guilt It doesn't need to stay I just wanted you to miss me for a moment

Someone told me that you married her Traded hands for last names And someone else told me you got divorced already Who would have thought it wouldn't last? But I guess we have come common ground Should we maybe build a dialogue? Let's call it karma I lost her hand, you lost her name I hope it drives you insane just like it did me

I never liked you even though we had never met Your face was blurred and you face appeared next to hers And I slit my wrists for the goodness of her smile Chicken out at the last second Like I always fucking do

Did she ever mention me? Just once?

[urbancryptidwithchronicheadaches]

[anjwritesthings]

⭐ SEQUEL ANNOUNCEMENT!!! ⭐

There's a saying, "if only we had more time, if I had said what I felt..." to the ones that we love... but what if one didn't or couldn't? The second and final installment of the Heartlines duology, "Things Left Unsaid" is vol. 2 - a collection of poems that are about incomplete love stories, star-crossed lovers, tragic tales, regrets, unspoken confessions, the "what if's?" and so much more!

Where "A Glimpse of Love" was a peek into the various aspects of love in all its forms, this one tells a different story, a little bit more... emotional... this time around, but still just as important to tell; to remind us that when we have the chance, we should take the opportunity to say what's in our hearts 💙

"Things Left Unsaid" is out on Dec 17th, 2024!!!

[spiritualgangstrb4be]

There is nothing sexier than a man who knows how to traverse the juicy pathways of his own heart. A man who can stand to be called out on his shit. A man who, when you boldly ask him to be there, says yes-hell yes...and shows up beautifully, with every ounce of his beating heart.

There is nothing more beautiful than a man who talks openly and passionately about what’s on his mind rather than pulling far away and glossing it over with a bullshit generic response of

“I’m fine.”

There is nothing more breathtaking in the world than a man who knows the salty taste of tears. A man who lets you see him on his worst days...stripped, sad and raw...vulnerability hanging out of his split-open heart like ripped ribbons.

There is nothing more bone-suckin’ delicious than a man who knows how to take care of a woman, how to touch her softly and fiercely at the same time, how to fuck her wildly while gazing gently into the sapphire depths of her soul, how to set her free while claiming her and make her feel like a cherished jewel of divinity, like the goddess she is.

There is absolutely nothing more astounding than a man who kisses like he could die five minutes from now. A man who understands the preciousness of this breath, this inhale…and exhale. A man who wants nothing more than to face the world together as you both smile, breathe, set the air around you on delicate fire, transcend bullshit and ascend towards nectar galaxies far too beautiful to comprehend.

There is nothing more maddeningly magnificent than a man who pulls you close and declares his love for you, and shouts it from the rooftops like music, and weaves his fingers through yours with ripe enthusiasm, and isn’t scared to call you too soon, and call you out on your shit, and call you the luscious love of his life.

There is nothing more goddamn gorgeous than a man who is fiercely himself, who holds the strongest heart space in his warm, sultry embrace...for you to bloom, blossom, flourish and soar...as he does the same.

At the end of every dissolving sands, apricot sunset-soaked day —

There is nothing sexier than a man who knows how to love himself. A man who values the truth running through his veins like sacred ink. A man brave enough to be there for you and himself when shit is beautiful and when it’s completely falling apart.

This is the kind of man you deserve. A man who isn’t afraid of emotion. A man who shows up one hundred percent. A man who is ready...who craves every drop, drip and ounce of an authentic, earthy goddess of a wonderful woman like you. Let him kiss you with his entire being until you remember who you really are.

Don’t settle down with him...

Settle UP into a more luscious, technicolor life. A life so beautiful it hurts sometimes. A life so fulfilling you’ll never be thirsty again. A life so freeing and spun of soul it makes you dizzy. Anything less than this heartfelt, present, purely sacred beauty is a goddamn tragedy.

Don’t settle Down...

Settle UP. ‘Cause when the divine masculine meets the divine feminine, magic happens. The sweetest magic of all.

- unknown