A bittersweet ache, shaped like your name, has always resided in my heart. I see it now – a tapestry woven with missed opportunities. Perhaps the fault lies with me. Fear silenced my honesty, and I trusted fate instead of seizing the moments we shared. The yearning was so immense, it crippled my courage to hold you close. We danced around unspoken feelings, clinging to a fragile "what-if" until it became a mournful "what was."
Regret whispers that I surrendered to my hesitation. My love, a thousand times confessed, yet never in the raw, unfiltered way my heart craved. Like a poorly addressed letter, my affections fluttered aimlessly, hoping for an answer that wouldn't arrive. Perhaps the silence was my greatest folly – using my voice to write about you, for you, instead of speaking directly.
Maybe the blame doesn't lie with you or the universe, but with my embrace of uncertainty. My actions, cryptic whispers you might not have understood. Did the late replies, the comforting hand on your shoulder, the silent vigil by your side as the world wore you down – did any of it convey the depth of my feelings? Did you see beyond the "I'll be there for you" to the boundless ocean of devotion surging beneath? Did you know how far I would have swum for you?
Perhaps, in the end, it wasn't your blindness, but my own. This heartache, a celestial nudge reminding me that loss isn't just about indifference, but also about the unsaid, the unacted upon, the love that drowned in the quiet depths of my being.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers in the Wind
PoetryDo you like whispering in the wind? Like you cannot talk what you feel? It is for you!
