Date Published: July 15, 2025
Time Published: 12:01 PM
Category: Poetry
Subject: Unrequited love
Even if I turn to ashes in your fire,
I still try to be the warmth you'll never desire.
I was the storm that learned to be still,
for a sky that never looked down and never will.
Even if I'm someone you'll never need,
I still write you down in every poem I bleed.
I patch your wounds with hands that tremble,
while mine ache—too broken to resemble.
Even if I keep reaching first,
like a wilted rose chasing thirst.
You are the moon, I am the tide—
pulling close, though you turn aside.
Even if we sing out of tune,
I'll dance with you beneath a breaking moon.
I am the song in your quiet ache,
even when my voice begins to break.
Even if you can't love me back,
I'll fill your spaces—I'll cover the cracks.
Because sometimes love is not a choice—
it stays, even if it loses its voice.
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