Unsaid Poems - Poems about Unsaid

I was like a paper and you were the writer, You wrote my life the way no one could ever. I was like an old magazine lying on a shelf, You made me realise my worth which I would have never done myself. I was just like a glass of water, You were the one to tell me how...

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There is so much unsaid That I want to tell you What I can't express to you, I keep it safely within I try to speak, But I never manage to say it You always speak Even for the words I wish to say What I want to express, You understand without me saying it. You read my silence Just by looking into my eyes There is...

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There is so much unsaid That I want to tell you What I can't express to you, I keep it safely within I try to speak, But I never manage to say it You always speak Even for the words I wish to say What I want to express, You understand without me saying it. You read my silence Just by looking into my eyes There is...

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It must not go unsaid.    they were charming people who understood my concern to have an ill wife who needed care more than an old pension can bear was to invest with them in a scheme that out great dividends An investment where my uncle's son was the facilitator  what else could go wrong, his skeptical heart sensed a new spring...

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i might have acted like i didn't care but i always dreamt of you coming back ~ ultimately it had to be your choice AP: Honorable Mention 2025 Posted on March 13, 2025...

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The cloudy sky, filled with the fragrance of wet sand, The view, you and the beautiful us walking hand in hand. You tell me that I look like a little blooming flower, But how can I tell you that this happiness is the result of the love that you shower. You ask me what I like, But how...

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Mama writing what was not said It's always running through my head Things that happened that happened That day is better left unsaid But I wanted you to know it hurt like Hell even though I was already leaving it separating us is not what I wanted to do But being seven years old you know how A Childs mind...

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We grew up with aphorisms-- Pithy, witty observations; Some may only be sophisms That were passed through generations. Old but not anachronisms, They’re still true in many nations. They have kept their witticisms And established strong foundations. As I’m fond of verbalisms, I have made some alterations, I call them malaphorisms, Please take them without vexations: 1. A bird in the hand is worth … the same...

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There are things that are left unsaid Fearing a reaction that I dread For here I stand still Trying now to bend my will There are times I question it now Unable to comprehend how It ended just like this When I retreat to understand the gist There will be a day when it is lost And I wonder at the cost Of...

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Silence is the strong reply Questions are sent back to me Silence looks straight in my eye I don’t know what it can see Words you say remain unsaid You don’t let me hearing them You don’t want me to feel sad At least sadder than I am Silence is a pile of snow On a dazzling summer day Silence melts to icy flow Disappears...

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I thought that I oughtn't have fought I thought that I ought to have cared I thought that I ought but all that I got Was a thought that I oughtn't have shared...

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Knew it in moment this Wednesday though she left last Monday life turned, never to be the same now my heart knows how it feels to cherish now, what was then. Her days carried me on a breeze like a book that was never meant to be read only felt in rippled waves oh, to turn through...

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The eyes that are stuck on floor today Resisting every temptation to seek a look Not so long ago recorded in a book The secret meeting of ours when towards each other they shook I hope they don't encounter yours again Not because they are afraid to see you Probably my feelings will give your heart a stain 'Cause you never knew...

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Here I am again, in a familiar silence Inside a bustling place full of lies In a bench of solitude, my preference To watch the world as it dies Before my senses, before my sighing eyes. I see silence amid the rushing crowd, I see silence confined in the traffic jam, I hear it in the children who laugh aloud, In the sound...

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My mind is filled with things to be said and my mouth is filled with things unsaid. My head goes empty when I pick up a pen to write the things to be said and my head grows full with things unsaid. The things unsaid is like a load that drags my feet like a...

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