Parth Zadey Poet Spoken Word

The Curse of Not Being Chosen

(softly)
There’s a silence that follows every maybe—
a kind of ghost that sits beside you
when everyone else has gone home.

I’ve seen people walk away
with my laughter still on their skin,
with my words still in their mouth—
as if I was a story
they outgrew too soon.

And it’s never the leaving that kills you,
no—
it’s the looking back.
Seeing yourself
in someone’s almost,
someone’s if only,
someone’s not quite.

They told me I was kind.
Gentle.
Understanding.
But not… enough.
Never the one they stayed for.
Never the name their heart whispered
when it had to choose.

(pauses)
So I learned—
sometimes love doesn’t end in betrayal.
It ends in absence.
In silence.
In someone forgetting
how it felt to hold you.

And maybe that’s my curse—
to be remembered softly,
but never kept.
To be missed quietly,
but never sought.
To be loved halfway,
but never all the way home.

(sighs)
But still…
I’d rather be the one who loved
and lost,
than the one who never felt
how deep it could go.

(pause)
Because even if love never chose me—
I still chose it.
Every time.

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