Fractured Echoes of an Unsaid Love #poetry

Yesterday

Was I a whisper in the marrow of an unfinished sentence,
or was I an echo that rattled inside your ribs before dying?
I saw the sun exhale its last breath into the mouth of the sea,
yet you stood, spine straight, unflinching,
watching the waves collapse over themselves like the arguments
we never quite settled.

Did I just say it, like an accidental exhale,
or did I tell it to you, with the precision of a cartographer,
marking every syllable as if it mattered?
Yesterday—
where my voice had the texture of breaking glass,
and your silence had the weight of an unsent letter.

Do You Still

Do you still collect shadows in your pockets,
the ones I left behind, stitched with the color of my voice?
Do you still trace my absence in the mirror’s breath,
wondering if the reflection is hollow
or if it simply forgot the shape of my name?
You once said time would soften everything,
but I think time only sharpens,
like a blade pressed against the soft part of memory,
like a whisper turning into a scream,
like a house that still creaks long after its inhabitants have fled.

Was I Simple

Was I simple, like a child’s first lie,
or was I a labyrinth with doors that led back to themselves?
You used to say I was a constellation,
but what use is a constellation
if the stars never align in the right order?
Maybe I was just a flickering bulb
in a hallway you never needed to walk through.

Simple is the way a stone skips across a river
before it sinks.
Simple is the way a name erodes in the mouth of time,
or the way silence fills a room more completely than sound ever could.
Was I simple,
or were you just uninterested in the complications of me?

Am I Still

Am I still the sound of rain on a window you no longer sit by?
Am I still the taste of something almost familiar
but not quite remembered?
Like the ghost of a song you hum in your sleep,
or the space between two hands that once fit together?
Does my name still fracture your breath,
or does it pass through your throat like air,
weightless, forgettable, unremarkable?

Today

Today, I fold myself into the corners of things I don't own,
the spaces between books,
the crumpled sheets of a bed I don’t sleep in,
the pause before a train leaves,
the hesitation before a sentence is finished.

Today, the light looks different—
it bends at strange angles,
casting shadows where none should exist.
I think I am one of those shadows.

Did I just say it,
or did I tell it to you?
Because there’s a difference,
and you knew it when you blinked and the moment cracked open.

Were You Able To

Were you able to untangle my voice from the static,
or did you let it dissolve in the hum of other conversations?
Were you able to hold the words long enough
to feel their weight?
Or did they slip through your fingers,
vanishing like mist pressed between palms?
I used to think meaning was indestructible,
but I was wrong.

Was I Serious When I Said I Love You

Was I serious when I said I love you,
or was I a magician pulling a trick on myself?
Was it the kind of love that stitches wounds,
or the kind that carves them deeper?
Was I serious,
or did I mistake gravity for depth,
mistake hunger for need,
mistake you for someone who wanted to listen?
And when you looked at me,
was it understanding,
or was it the polite way people stare at paintings
they don’t quite get?

Tomorrow

Tomorrow, I will forget how to measure the distance
between then and now.
Tomorrow, I will wake up in a city where the streets
do not know my name,
where the air does not carry the scent of our unspoken words.
Tomorrow, I will be a language you never learned to speak.

I will not ask if you still.
I will not wonder if I still.
I will not need to know if you were ever able to.

Tomorrow,
I will let the echo of yesterday
shatter into something I no longer have to piece together.

#Poetry #UnspokenLove #FracturedMemories #PoetryOfTime #ExperimentalVerse #EchoesOfYesterday #LoveAndLoss #AbstractEmotions #WordsLeftUnsaid