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.


15 thoughts on “Unsaid 

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