Tonight
I almost wrote a goodbye.
Not because I hated life,
but because life felt
too heavy to carry alone.
The page was empty.
The pen waited.
And for a moment
I thought a few final words
could close the door
on all the noise inside me.
But the strange thing about silence
is that it listens back.
The room stayed still.
My breath kept moving.
The night did not ask me to leave.
I realized
what I wanted
was not an ending.
I wanted rest.
I wanted someone
to see the invisible weight
I had been holding quietly.
So the paper remained blank.
Not because the pain disappeared
but because something small
refused to give up.
A quiet thought
that said:
You don’t have to finish
your story tonight.
So I folded the page,
put the pen down,
and let the morning
have its chance.
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Comments3
Procrastinating death is not a bad thing. A great write about an action not taken that leaves further options and I was always told to leave as many options open as possible
That’s a beautiful way to see it. Sometimes the most powerful action is the one we choose not to take. Leaving the page blank leaves room for another chapter.
Always leave a blank page
Good afterlife !
I like the quiet wisdom of this poem.
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