Unsaid 

Ironic as it may sound 

As I write this on, 

I may call myself a poetess 

But over tangled words, feelings won. 

When I tried so hard but couldn’t rhyme 

The colour of the sky, 

With the calm I felt, and how I swept 

And how my smile was wry. 

The day I left the place, 

Where I’d felt something new 

Recapturing through my gaze 

At the trees and the dew. 

When I felt blessed, but couldn’t speak

Of how my head hummed 

How my heart plummeted 

And all the times it crumbled. 

They say some things 

Are just better left unsaid, 

For the fabric might just lose out 

The beauty of a single thread. 

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15 thoughts on “Unsaid 

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