I was left with questions,
ones that echoed in my mind like an unanswered call,
ones that made my heart sink a little deeper into itself.
Was it my body?
Was it my heart?
Was it something I said, something that didn’t sit right with you?
Did I turn you off?
Did I say too much, or maybe too little?
I wished we could talk about it,
clear the air,
lay it all down,
but then I remembered,
there was nothing to talk about, was there?
Because there was nothing we had.
Or maybe… maybe it was because I didn’t hug you goodbye in public?
Was that it?
Because I don’t do that, it’s not me.
And you… you wouldn’t have made the move either.
Maybe if I had, things would have been easier,
maybe it would have softened the silence that followed.
Did you know that was the last time we’d meet?
Because I didn’t.
I didn’t know that moment would be the final page of whatever story this was.
I thought there would be another chapter,
but you closed the book without warning.
And when I realized you weren’t going to call,
when it finally hit me that my phone wasn’t going to light up with your name,
I asked.
Not out of desperation,
not to beg,
but because I needed to know.
Because my heart deserved at least that much.
And all you said,
all you had to say,
was that we shouldn’t talk about it.
That as long as we both enjoyed it, that was all that mattered.
But tell me,
did you ever wonder if I enjoyed the way it ended?
If I enjoyed the silence, the emptiness, the way my own thoughts became a battlefield?
I wished I could have spoken then,
told you what was burning inside me.
But I couldn’t.
I froze.
I swallowed words that begged to be set free.
And because I stayed silent, the pain settled in,
took root,
made itself at home.
And what happened between us?
It did nothing but make the hurt worse.
It made me regret opening that door,
regret giving you access to places in me that not just anyone gets to see.
But… it’s okay.
It’s okay because pain is a teacher,
and I am a student who learns the hard way.
One day, the wounds will close.
One day, I’ll look back and not feel the sting.
One day, I’ll hear your name and not feel the weight of it in my chest.
I will heal.
Definitely not overnight.
and not all at once.
But I will.
And when I do,
I will carry the lessons with me,
not as chains,
but as reminders.
Yes, not as wounds,
but as wisdom.
And that…
That is enough.
When Silence Feels Too Loud by Walking Shadow Poetry
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