UNSAID

 ‎It’s strange how some stories refuse to end properly

‎they pause, they drift, they wait in quiet places.

‎Ours did that… somewhere between then and now,

‎between who we were and who we pretend to be.

‎And when I saw you again, nothing announced itself

‎no grand moment, no revelation

‎just a subtle shift,

‎like something unfinished recognizing its other half in passing.

‎

‎We talked the way people do when they avoid the truth well

‎soft laughter, borrowed futures, careless “what ifs.”

‎But beneath it, something kept leaning closer,

‎something neither of us named.

‎You asked questions that brushed too near the surface,

‎and I answered like someone protecting a secret

‎that has already been discovered,

‎just never spoken aloud.

‎

‎Now I understand

‎not everything meant to be felt is meant to be held.

‎Some things exist best in that fragile distance

‎where nothing is promised, yet nothing fully fades.

‎And maybe that’s what this is…

‎not love declared, not love denied

‎just something that lingers,

‎waiting for a moment that never quite arrives.

‎