PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You think I don’t still feel it? 
The echo never left. 
It’s in the light that spills 
across the floor like we used to—
chaotic, accidental, warm.

Yes, I heard every word 
you didn’t mean and the silence 
that swallowed what we couldn’t say.

Time doesn’t rewind, but it replays. 
Not in full—just flashes. 
Your laugh— like a match 
right before the burn.

I wish we’d argued softer. 
I wish I could’ve held the moment 
tighter instead of the score.

I remember your eyes. 
They told the truth. 
Even when your voice 
betrayed them. And mine.

If I met you again— this time, 
I’d whisper. This time, I’d listen. 
This time, I’d let the happy things 
stay without turning them into proof 
that something better was lost.

You want free? Maybe I do too. 
But maybe love was never about escape, 
just the courage to stand still 
while our shadows catch up.

So here— for every word we flung, 
every memory sharp as glass: 
I leave you this gentler thing. 
It doesn’t erase us. 
But it doesn’t scream.

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