I stopped holding the questions in,
and I asked at last:
why the love he gave
was taken back without a word.
He said it was mood wings,
that it was best for me.
A silly excuse,
a silly thought —
choosing for me
with the same mind
that claimed to love me.
It made me wonder
how heavy it must have been for him,
yet I resented him all the same,
for silence is a wound
that never explains itself.
-
Author:
ELIORA💕✨ (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 10th, 2026 20:04
- Comment from author about the poem: a question asked, an excuse given, and the quiet resentment that followed. It’s unfiltered, direct, and carries the sting of silence.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 1
- In collections: Echoes of love.
Offline)
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