A Poem About Love That Stayed Silent
You were never loud with love,
No grand words, no desperate touch—
Just quiet presence in the room,
And somehow… that felt like enough.
At least, in the beginning.
I remember how your eyes once spoke,
Before your lips forgot my name,
Before silence built a home between us,
And nothing ever felt the same.
We didn’t break in one moment—
No storm, no final goodbye,
Just a thousand little absences
That taught my heart to cry.
You were there… but never with me,
Close… but worlds away,
And I kept reaching through the distance
You created every day.
I didn’t need forever promises,
Or words you couldn’t keep,
I just needed to feel something—
Anything… before I sleep.
So I asked you,
Not for love, not for truth,
But something painfully real:
“Make me cry.”
Because your silence hurt deeper
Than any cruel goodbye ever could,
And even pain would’ve been better
Than feeling misunderstood.
Tears at least mean something’s alive,
That something still remains,
But loving you felt like holding air—
Nothing to lose, nothing to gain.
And maybe that’s the tragedy—
Not that you didn’t love me,
But that you loved me quietly
In a way I could never see.
Now I walk away with heavy eyes,
Not broken… just aware,
That love isn’t about staying—
If you were never truly there.
So here’s my final truth,
The one you never tried to hear:
You didn’t make me cry that day—
I had been crying for years.
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