I’m not a poetic person. I don’t create poems often.
But sometimes, there are moments when I feel completely alone—
when I don’t know who to talk to or where to share what’s in my heart.
Most people have someone. Someone they turn to.
But some of us—people like me—we don’t have that “particular someone.”
We carry things silently, hoping they fade, even when they don’t.
I won’t say this directly, won’t let my sorrow fully reach you,
but in one of those moments, I wrote something I want to share.
It’s not perfect. But it’s honest.
It goes something like this:
She crossed cities, burned bridges with her past,
Carried love like luggage, thinking it would last.
He stayed where comfort kissed his feet,
While she traded warmth for lonely streets.
She whispered wishes through a phone's cold glass,
While he danced through festivals, letting moments pass.
He thought her sacrifice meant she'd always stay,
But even the strongest hearts can drift away.
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