You were never mine,
but I held you like a habit I couldn’t quit.
I counted your texts like proof,
waited for replies like they owed me something,
turned your silence into hope
because hope was easier than truth.
You never said you loved me—
your eyes hovered near the word.
Your touch paused long enough
to teach me what it wasn’t.
And I—
I made a life out of almost.
Built futures on maybes.
Mourned a home
that never opened its door.
Isn’t it strange
how the deepest ache
comes from loving someone
who never asked us to stay?
-
Author:
GingaNinja (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 9th, 2026 11:44
- Category: Sad
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments2
Unrequited love is an old issue that has been around as long as people. Love is seldom fair and its idea form seldom exists. A lovely write
Tough one, you give a hundred percent and get nothing in return.
Do you walk away with your head held high, or is it still raw and hurtful.
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